Forgotten Fates
by Aria Mirage
Summary: Both Wolverine and Storm reunite with aspects of their past long forgotten—will it prove to be for better or for worse? Movie-verse/Comic-verse–AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Title:** Forgotten Fates

**Author:** Aria Mirage

**Rating:** T (Probable mild 'M' in future chapters)

**Summary:** Both Storm and Wolverine reunite with aspects of their past—will it be for better or for worse? [Movie-verse/Comic-verse–AU].

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

* * *

><p>Corner pocket.<p>

The gruff Canadian grunted his approval at the accuracy of his shot, straightening up to take a covetous puff of the stogie between his fingers.

He sniffed, instantly detecting her scent in the air. His lips curled slowly. Just how long was she going to watch him? He didn't need his enhanced senses to know she was there, observing him from the doorway.

"Afternoon, Red."

He heard Jean's girlish chuckle drift from behind him. Logan turned to look at her over his shoulder, watching the telepath's slow approach with lazy hazel eyes. She came alongside him and waved away the cloud of smoke that hovered around their heads with a frown pasted on her lips.

"I thought the Professor forbid you from smoking in the mansion." She coughed to emphasis her point.

Defiantly, Logan exhaled another wispy puff of smoke, looking down at his hand to study the cigar in question, his voice gruff.

"Nope. Only not around the kids and Cerebro."

Jean hummed thoughtfully.

He knew what she was there for, how this little game of theirs went. So, same as always, he cut right to the chase.

"So," Logan paused to stare her in the eye. "Where's the Boy Scout?"

Logan moved around to the other side of the table, bending down to line up another shot.

*CRRRAAAKK !*

The multicolored balls scattered across the dark green felt.

Jean idly trailed behind, sidling up close until she was nearly right on top of him.

"He's in a meeting with the Professor."

Ah, so that was the reason why, Logan mused, Little Miss Red was feeling a bit amorous today. The scent of the floral perfume she wore mingled pleasantly in the air with her desire, tickling Logan's sensitive nose and causing him to stir slightly. Feigning obliviousness, Logan drew deeply on the cigar. He cleared his throat, releasing more of the musty smoke from his parted lips.

"Yeah?" he drawled casually.

"Mm-hm." Her voice took on a low hum. "They're discussing the possibility of partnering up certain classes with the school in Massachusetts in the near future."

"Hmph," Logan grunted in reply.

The Wolverine's grunts were legendary. He had a diversified multitude of them and they all meant different things. This one served to show his blissful indifference.

"Uh-huh. So knowing Scott and the Professor, it'll be awhile."

Pink lips grazed Logan's ear as she leaned in further, brushing up against him with her chest pressed against the firmness of his back.

". . . Good thing for us," she near whispered, breath ghosting against the shell of his ear.

Up so close, the floral perfume she wore was stifling, making his head swim and trifling with his concentration - and restraint. The scent of the fragrance and her desire so close to him sparked a low growl to emanate from his chest.

Instead of intimidating her, the sound of it made Jean grin with encouragement. Feeling bold, she easily hoisted herself atop the edge of the pool table and sat, continuing on, unaware of the Wolverine's unsettled mood.

"You know, this is right where it happened before," she reminded him softly, prodding him further. "Our kiss? Do you remember, Logan?

His jaw clenched.

"Jeannie," he muttered in a low warning.

"Logan," she mimicked in retort, her tone teasing, pleased she was able to get under his skin the way he got under hers.

"Stop it, Jeannie," he cautioned simply, holding up his hand in a peaceful gesture. "Just—Just don't, alright?"

The pretty redhead's smiled slipped a fraction, her tone coming out cooler this time around.

"And why not? We haven't done anything, Logan. Nothing serious. It's not like—"

"Yet."

"What?"

With darkening eyes, he glared at her pointedly, penetratingly. "Ya heard me. Just how long are we gonna do this, Red? Until there's no more 'yet' to worry about?"

Jean didn't bother to play coy this time. She knew exactly what he was alluding to. The dance they did around each other – the game they played. Heavy flirting. Heavy innuendos. Heavy petting even – just that once, still, but they tried not to talk about that, too ashamed.

When Jean did nothing but stare him in the face, Logan growled in frustration and tossed the pool stick down on the table with a loud clatter. Startled, the telepath just stared as Logan began pacing back and forth in front of her like a caged animal, roughly raking a hand through the wild, black tufts of hair. He stopped suddenly and let out a deep sigh of frustration, casting her one last glance before stomping out of the room in the direction of the winding staircase and muttering a low, "I need a beer," under his breath.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Logan quickly made his way down the hall towards his room, and flung open the door, stalking to his closet in search of his signature leather jacket hanging on a hook on the inside of the door. Immediately, he threw it on and left the room. He pulled the door, hearing it slam shut behind him. He made his way back down stairs swiftly and saw Jean standing at the bottom landing, waiting for him. She glanced up at him, but he passed her without a word, stepping around her and heading out back. Undeterred, Jean strode behind him, calling out to him.

"Logan. Hey! Logan, wait."

When he continued to ignore her she called his name with more insistence, catching up and laying a hand on his shoulder.

Logan whirled around so quickly that it startled her momentarily, she gasped in surprise, bumping right smack into his rock hard chest. She bounded back and Logan caught her by the arms before she could stumble completely.

Her eyes found his face, only to see him frowning down on her with clear irritation. "Whaddaya want from me, Jeannie, huh?" he ground out angrily, clutching her around the arms. The evident look of fear distorting her porcelain features caused Logan to look her up and down in assessment, before releasing his near painful hold on her bare arms. Slight, red, finger marks showed up on the pale skin. An unbidden comparison unexpectedly crossed his mind just then, making him smirk ironically at the thought.

Ro's eyes never held any fear when she looked at him.

Logan balled his fists, jaws clenching tight with restrained tension. He didn't want this. He didn't need this. He didn't need additional reasons to fight with Scooter and endure the acrimonious glares the Boy Scout sent his way because he despised the Wolverine messing around with his girl. He didn't need the reproving looks of disgust he constantly received from the rest of the team and the Professor because they, too, found it distasteful and divisive. Lastly, he really didn't need to see the hurt on Ororo's face whenever she caught him heavily flirting with her best friend—a woman who was supposed to be more like a sister.

Or was rather.

Strained was the relationship between the redheaded telepath and the white-haired weather mistress the last several weeks and there was no question as to why. Be it Logan's not-so-subtle flirting with Jean and Jean's complete openness to receiving it, or—when Scott or Ororo were not around—Jean's candid reciprocation of it.

Her voice quivered a bit when she spoke to him, still slightly unnerved by his simmering anger.

"There is . . . something between us, Logan, and it's not our fault . . . this . . . attraction."

Her emerald eyes held Logan's until he looked away resignedly, swearing under his breath.

Red was right.

He was attracted to her.

Obviously, she was beautiful, but there was something else, too. Something nostalgic about her that he couldn't exactly put his finger on. The reason why seemed to be shrouded in mystery, by a smoky veil concealing it from the light, but whenever he saw her, blurred memories tickled his mind, stirring up some long-held emotion buried deep in his heart. Whatever it was though, was beginning to wreak havoc. On him, the team, and Scott and Ororo especially. He despised the look of veiled disappointment on Ororo's face whenever she caught him and Jean in one of their moments.

Ro.

Just considering what they were doing to her further frustrated him. So, he snapped.

"What about, 'Ro, huh, Red?" He spun around to glare at her, eyes full of accusation. "Ain't she supposed to be like a sister to ya?"

Jean's face fell at the mention of Ororo, and she frowned at him. Swallowing hard past the lump of guilt in her throat, she said in retort, "She is. Ororo is like a sister to me."

Logan scoffed derisively. "Ya sure have a funny way of showing it," he sneered.

Jean's green eyes darkened with anger and her tone hardened when she spoke.

"I haven't exactly been alone in this, you know. Wasn't it you who initiated flirting with me? Pursuing me? Even though you knew that Scott and I are engaged? How many times have you flirted with me around Scott, deliberately making him angry? And what about you and Ororo?" she pressed. "You flirt with me, you touch me, you've kissed me, when you're supposed to be with Ororo! Tell me how you are any better than I am?"

"Never said I was dammit!" Logan yelled, now completely angry. For God's sake, he didn't need reminding. The guilt made him uncomfortable as it is, and she knew it. That's why she'd brought it up. He was sure of it.

"Look, Jeannie. I'm wrong, yer wrong, we're both wrong. Can't ya see that's why I'm tryna stop this? 'Cause if we keep this up, you know, and I know, both of us will do something we'll regret later. Pissin' off One-Eye has kinda lost its appeal, and I—" He pursued his lips tightly, lifting his hand to rub tiredly at his eyes. "—I don't wanna hurt Ro. She—Ro is—"

He growled in frustration, passing thickly calloused hands over his face, rough and coarse with thick, dark stubble.

When she realized he didn't intend to finish the thought, Jean sighed, wearily.

"Look." Another sigh. "I—I get what you're saying, Logan. Scott, he—Scott is—," her voice softened then tapered off. "He means so much to me, too."

Brief silence fell.

Her fiery red hair began to blow gently in the breeze – so pretty that even though knew he shouldn't – Logan just had to lean in a bit, carefully tucking it behind her ear. That red hair. Something about it tugged at his heartstrings, vibrantly red like a rose. Her head lulled back at his touch, gazing up into his face to smile tenderly at him. He really was handsome, in a rough, grizzled sort of way. All male—untamed, wild. She was susceptible to it as much as any other woman, in spite of Scott being the man she loved.

Things had begun to deteriorate with him slowly but surely, same as it had with Ororo. She was losing them, the most important people in her life. Why? Selfishness? Illicit lust?

Letting her thoughts travel, Jean recalled the way Charles had looked at her recently, having seen her and Logan canoodling after a mission, the plain disappointment that had shown on his wizened face. She'd distanced herself from Logan immediately when she'd saw it, allowing a small apologetic smile curve her lips before she'd scampered off like a chastened coward, down the hall and into the changing rooms. That look . . . from a man that was practically like her father. It made a sickening feeling settle in the pit of her stomach.

Scott, Ororo, and the Professor. Father-figure. Fiancé. Sister.

And she was hurting them all.

She didn't know what to do about it. Or rather, she did know. The only thing left to discover was if she had the strength of character to stop and do the right thing—by everyone.

A dark cloud obscured the late afternoon sun above them, further greying the already overcast sky. Still clutching one another, both Jean and Logan glanced up to gawk at the sun slowly being smothered by dark storm clouds. Logan sniffed, his lungs filling with the scent of rain, flowers, and moist earth. His body tensed immediately as he whipped his head around to see Storm staring at them from the bottom of the stairs that led up to the terrace where he and Jean stood together.

He could almost hear his heart break when he caught the crushed look on her face, all too familiar lately. Jean saw her as well, and he heard her gasp with surprise. Quietly, Logan swore at his luck. He was in for it now, and he was pretty damn sure much explaining would have to be done.

"Flamin' hell," he grit out.

Ororo stared at them through the first slow fat drops of rain that fell, not flinching at all against the cold drops pelting her steadily. She remained still as a statue, never blinking once while she gazed continuously at the pair. She was dressed down in mottled gardening clothes, the plain t-shirt and jeans soiled with dirt and unidentified plant stains. In her hands she held a basket with a pair of gloves, pruning shears, and various other gardening tools. Looking and smelling as if she'd just come in from the greenhouse. It was there she stayed all the time now, even more so than usual. Every last one of the X-Men knew the affection Ororo held for the greenhouse, what it did for her spirits while she worked among the plants and moist earth, being as one with nature as she was. It was a colorful, thriving haven for Ororo, and even more so in her times of personal duress.

But she was hardly outside of those glass walls anymore. And he was the one, lately, causing her duress.

It made him feel like crap, like a brute.

Even so, Logan's gaze warmed as he watched the rain soaking through her clothes, wet and sticking along her curvy body. She was damn beautiful, Ororo. Frighteningly so. The woman didn't look like she belonged down here, with the mere mortals, but rather up in some mysterious, otherworldly abode tucked far away in the heavens. Even looking the way she did now, sad and soaked, he couldn't help but be stunned by her beauty.

Those cat-like eyes of hers – so wide, so bright – appeared to narrow and harden at the same time as she stared between him and Jean. She shook her head dejectedly, her gaze sinking down to the wet grass under her feet.

Logan dropped his hands from Jean and began to walk down the steps towards Ororo, intent to make his case. Her head snapped up so fast, her azure eyes so cold, that when he saw them, he immediately stopped in his tracks; the frozen stare made him shiver unconsciously. Crystal blue melted into glowing white, full of indignation. She held up her hand, halting him, and intoned coolly.

"Don't. You. Dare."

A roll of thunder rumbled overhead, punctuating her warning.

The milky white glare passed from him to over his shoulder, where it settled on Jean. A sad, resigned smirk touched Ororo's lips. She let her hand fall, solemnly shaking her head.

Jean gulped with unease, her eyes pleading with Ororo – who not noticing – continued staring blankly at the ground.

"I am a fool," Ororo muttered, more to herself than them.

"Listen, Ro—" Logan tried.

"But no longer," her voice rose in pitch, firmly interrupting him. "I've cut my losses; I sympathize only for Scott."

"Ro—" Jean pled.

As if they'd summoned him by name, Scott Summers walked out onto the terrace. His brow crinkled as he took turns leveling all three of them with a glare from behind his ruby-red visor. He silently observed all three of his teammates: Logan, torn, and glaring at Ororo like he was practically willing her to look at him, desperate for an opening inside her seemingly cold exterior. Ororo, reluctantly shifting her gaze between Jean and Logan, her face seemingly blank and expressionless. And lastly, he let his eyes roam over his fiancée, whose emerald eyes were curiously downcast. She seemed to shiver slightly, looking very much cold and damp.

What had he walked in on? The tension between the three parties was palpable, and awkward. Scott sensed it. His eyes targeted Logan, glowering at him. If something was wrong then it meant Logan was at fault.

It was always Logan's fault.

"Everything alright? Jean? Ororo? "

The redhead answered much too quickly. "Oh, everything's fine, babe." Her smile was tight and looked uncomfortable. She shot Ororo and Logan a sideways glance, silently urging them to affirm her words. Logan, however, ignored Scott – as always – and his question. Cyke didn't concern him, particularly at the moment. Nevertheless, Ororo did turn to Scott. Mustering a polite grin, she acknowledged her fellow co-leaders presence with a brief nod of the head.

"You needn't worry, Scott. Everything's fine. Like she said." She didn't dare glance in Jean and Logan's direction. "Did you need something, Scott?"

"Yeah, uh, Professor Xavier and I wanted you to join in a discussion we're having. He wants to speak with the both of us. I came to let you know. "

"Of course."

One last glance at Jean and Logan was all she spared, before climbing the steps, steering a wide path around both of them on her way inside. "I'll be down as soon as I change out of these wet clothes, Scott."

"Sure thing."

All three of them watched her disappear inside the mansion – one curious, one dismayed, and one frustrated and annoyed beyond belief. Figuring a couple beers might help with that, Logan left the remaining two behind on his way to the garage. Harry's was calling him hard tonight.

Scott watched him take brisk strides in the direction of the mansions garage. The animal was probably getting ready to ride off into the night on his stolen bike. Scott frowned at his back. He caught Jean out of the corner of his eye, trying to creep past him.

"So what was it?"

Jean froze and slowly turned to look at her fiancé. "What was what?"

"What was it that upset, Ororo?" He turned to face her, face and posture rigid, hands braced behind his back.

"Oh, uh, I—I guess she had a little spat with Logan."

Scott stared at her and she shrugged nervously under the ruby gaze.

"I'm not really sure. I mean . . . I don't know," she finished.

Jean flashed him an uneasy smile before continuing in her steps.

"You see, I think you do know, Jean. And you want to know what else I think? I think the reason Ororo was upset is because she most likely caught you with Logan – again."

He glared at her.

Jean swallowed hard. "What are you saying, Scott?"

He took a step towards her. "That's a good question. What am I saying, Jean?"

"Well, it sounds like you're accusing me."

"Accusing you?" Scott scoffed bitterly. "No, Jean. This isn't an accusation. This is me telling you that I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you flaunting whatever it is you have with Wolverine in front of my face with no regards to me or Ororo. And judging by the weather earlier, I'd say Ororo is sick of it, too."

The telepath's mouth fell open. She snorted and shook her head at him. "I can't believe you just said that to me."

"Believe it. Don't play the victim, Jean. You're selfish. A selfish, spoiled, little girl, Jean."

Scott turned on his heel and stomped off, leaving Jean to stare forlornly after him. A sob burst from her throat. Trembling under the overwhelming sense of guilt. 

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>


	2. Chapter 2:  That Which Was Forgotten

**Chapter Two:  
>That Which Was Forgotten<br>**

* * *

><p>She dreamed that night.<p>

A dream of memories past. All playing out before her in a blurry visual while she slept. Memories of the wreck that killed her parents and left her as a young girl buried under a pile of rubble with her mother's lifeless body. Forever, marking her a severe claustrophobe. Memories of living as an orphaned pickpocket on the grungy backstreets of Cairo – the prized protégée and pupil of the notorious Achmed El-Gibar. Memories of her leaving Egypt and traveling across the desert in search of her mother's ancestral homeland where she'd foolishly accepted a ride from a man who had appeared to be a Good Samaritan until the moment he'd attempted to rape her in the front seat of his Jeep. Memories of being shocked and terrified as he clawed at her, and then of her stabbing him, barely making a narrow escape as she ran away from the vehicle. She dreamt of how she'd nearly died as she traveled alone across the Sahara.

How she'd first came to experience her power over the elements – an encounter that had preserved her life.

She recalled how she'd met Prince T'Challa of Wakanda, how she'd saved his life from his would-be kidnappers and traveled with him until eventually the two were forced to part ways. The young Prince back to his kingdom in Wakanda, and she to the plains of the Serengeti – the home of her mother, a Kenyan tribal princess.

There she'd lived as a weather goddess, worshiped and revered by the local tribes until the day a wise, fatherly, American man came to her village and asked her to renounce her goddesshood and join him in New York with his team of mutants. A group he had affectionately deemed 'X-Men'. She remembered meeting and befriending the beautiful Jean Grey and her boyfriend Scott 'Cyclops' Summers. Of fighting side by side with them and her other teammates in battle against numerous foes. On first encountering the Morlock outcasts and defeating Callisto to become their leader. Memories of the deranged villain The Nanny and how she'd regressed her to a child – hapless and alone. How later she'd again, found herself in Cairo, but a Cairo vastly different from her home of Al Qahira, as it was called in Arabic. But Cairo, Illinois.

She dreamed of falling and being caught by strong gloved hands, and with wary reluctance, looking up into the blazing red eyes of the man who had caught her. The man who had saved her . . .

_Stormy_.

Ororo woke with a jolt, sitting up in her bed, chest heaving. She laid a shaky hand over her pounding heart and sighed deeply, turning and glancing out the French doors of her balcony. Outside the moon was obscured by deep purple clouds, casting her bedroom in darkness. Ororo threw back the covers and opened the doors to the balcony. A cool breeze ushered in, drifting across her face and stirring her hair, leaving the white gauzy curtains to flutter behind her. Barefooted, she stepped onto the balcony, lifting her hand and waved it across the sky. The clouds dissipated, leaving the moon's light unobstructed as it shone down upon her. She let her head fall back, ears opened to the sound of the breeze.

The song of the wind.

She could hear it.

So faint, yet, so clear.

The same voice, the same song that had called to her before in many times past. The song that had led her to first leave Egypt and seek out her late mother's homeland. It was the song that had led her to the village where she had been worshiped, revered. The same song that had led her to first join the X-Men.

She heard it now and she stood listening to it in the stillness of night. Telling her something was coming. _Someone _was coming. But what? Who?

Ororo inhaled a deep breath and spread her hands towards the starless sky. The winds flanked her obediently, guiding her up into the night air; her nightgown blowing around her gently as she hovered above the balcony.

Silly dreams. The situation with Logan and Jean was weighing on her heart, unsettling her. She'd never felt so betrayed before, with the exception of one past incident.

It hurt. Both times.

They'd never defined their relationship, she and Logan. The two of them spoke, they embraced, they kissed, and many a night, she'd laid blissfully beside him in his bed. But she had no claim on him. She realized that now. In reality, the man was free to do anything he wanted. That didn't excuse Jean, though, and it left Scott hurting.

None of it was fair. To lie in his arms at night and keep the nightmares at bay, only for him to rise the next day and continue his quest of dallying around her best friend.

Ororo looked ahead towards the horizon, the faintest hint of orange beginning to peek through the dark cloak. It'd be time to start class soon. With that thought, she smiled and flew right towards the burgeoning daylight.

* * *

><p>Professor Charles Xavier removed the helmet from his head and placed it back on top of the console. Turning around in his chair and exiting Cerebro as the doors closed securely behind him. He whirred down the halls, greeting the students that lingered in the halls on his way to his Psychics Class. A young student of his named Jubilation Lee, burst through the door to his office, frantically looking down the hallway in both directions until her eyes landed on him. She jogged towards him and Charles met her halfway.<p>

"Professor Xavier!"

"What is it, Jubilee?"

She stopped in front of him, large yellow hoop earrings clinking against her face. She blew a large pink bubble with her gum and cracked it loudly. Charles winced. "There's a guy in your office," she told him. "He's just sitting there. I think he's waiting for you."

Charles frowned, his brow wrinkling. "I wasn't expecting anyone. Did he give his name?"

"Nah, but he's hot and has this, like, really crazy accent," the Asian girl gushed.

The Professor's frowned deepened. "All right. Thank you, Jubilee."

"Sure thing."

"Come."

The teenager followed behind him down the hall into his office. They entered and found all the students in the class had turned in their seats and were gawking at the strange man leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall. He fiddled with a single card in his hand, twisting it and flipping it over repeatedly. The Ace of Spades. He produced the entire pack in his hands and proceeded to do a waterfall shuffle that left all the riveted teenagers in the room to ooh and ah at the stranger's skill.

Charles recognized him immediately.

"Well, _bonjour à vous, professeur_. Good seein' y' again," the man drawled, mixing broken English with husky Cajun French in a deeply accented voice.

Charles nodded and turned towards his students, who sat riveted by what was taking place in front of them.

"Class is postponed today. Read the assigned chapters designated on your syllabus for today's lesson and complete the accompanying questions; we'll discuss them next class."

There were various shouts of joy and woo-hoos at the announcement, amidst random high-fives, as the small group of students wasted no time gathering their things and hurriedly departing from the room. Jubilee lingered to say goodbye to the Professor and surreptitiously sneaked a peek at the handsome stranger who pulled down his glasses a fraction and rewarded her with a wink. Jubilee blushed deeply and quickly left the room.

The Professor watched her leave and turned towards the man. "Mr. LeBeau."

"Ah, so formal, _mon_ _ami_? Call me, Gambit, _non_?"

"Gambit. Yes, I recall now. That was how Ororo first introduced you to us."

The young man's smirk faded and was replaced by a worrisome frown, one that didn't escape the Professor's notice.

"Well, what would you have me do for you, Gambit? You obviously got around the mansions security defenses and were able to slip in unnoticed and undetected for a reason. I'd like to know what it is," the Professor said as he came around the side of his desk.

Gambit pushed off the wall and sauntered over towards the chair in front of Charles' desk, sitting down and hesitantly removing the dark shades, revealing incredible red and black eyes. He folded them carefully and placed them in one of the pockets of the worn leather duster he donned.

"Gambit come t' join de team," he said.

The Professor's brow arched imperiously at him.

"Again?"

Gambit released a short sigh and ran fingerless gloved hands through his long auburn locks. If Charles didn't know better, he would've said the man looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I didn' wan' t' leave de first time," replied the Cajun. "I jus'—I had t' dat's all."

For a long moment, the two men traded stares until Charles was forced to look away. The Cajun smirked to himself. Few people could look into his eyes for any significant length of time, to endure the devil's gaze. In fact, he'd only met one person in all his years that could.

_Stormy. _

"And how do you believe Storm will take this?" asked Professor Xavier.

Ironic. Gambit's gaze fell and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Dunno," he murmured softly. "Hopefully she'll fo'give dis Cajun, _non_? Stormy never been one t' hold a grudge."

Charles nodded.

"But why now, Gambit? I'm curious. Why return now after all this time? You left before without telling anyone, even Ororo. Why do you wish to rejoin the team again?"

"Why don' y' jus' read my mind an' find out?" Gambit responded, head snapping up.

"I can't and you know that I can't. Not that I would anyway."

Remy sighed and stood. His slow drawl speaking of barely veiled frustration.

"I kno' what I did. I ain't proud o' dat – runnin' off like I did. But like I told you, I had my reasons. Stormy was back safe wit' her precious X-Family an' I knew she'd be alright. I had t' go. Work somet'ings out. But I'm back now. An' I'm ready t' stay – fo' permanent dis time. I jus'— I feel like I'm s'posed to, _vous comprenez_?"

"Does this feeling have anything to do with Storm?"

Gambit didn't answer, just wordlessly stared at Charles.

The Professor sighed, steepling his hands in front of him. _So it does_.

"You are not in any trouble are you?"

Gambit's grin was sly. "None yet, _mon ami_. Not at de moment."

Charles grinned despite himself. He watched him for a long moment before responding, "I'd have to meet with the rest of the team and its leaders."

"Y' mean de one who wear de t'ing over his eyes? Cyclops or somet'ing like dat?"

"Yes. Cyclops."

Remy nodded.

"And Storm."

* * *

><p>Ororo just finished locking up her classroom after the end of the period when she glanced up to see Jean heading towards her. Ororo sighed through her nose, eyes drifting shut a moment before opening them up to see the redhead standing directly in front of her. Her posture spoke of nervousness. She anxiously rubbed her hands over her jeans.<p>

"Ororo, will you give me a minute? Can we talk?"

"Jean—"

"Please?"

Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose. She glanced back up at Jean who stared back at her, eyes pleading. The sight only aggravated Ororo further. Perhaps that would have worked with Scott or Logan, but it wasn't cutting it with her.

"Honestly, Jean, I would rather not. All you will tell me is how sorry you are and how you never intended to hurt me, and how regretful you feel for doing so. I don't want to listen to any of it Jean because I know it'd all be a lie. "

The telepath opened her mouth to argue the assumption but Ororo interrupted. She held up a hand to silence her.

"No, Jean. Do not try to tell me otherwise. You aren't sorry – about anything of this. You only regret having been caught. You and Logan have been up to this little game since the first day he stepped through those doors."

"I didn't know you had feelings for him! I didn't know you were together. You guys are so confusing and I—"

"Were you confused about you and Scott, as well? Hmm? Did you forget he was your fiancé? That you were engaged months before the mighty Wolverine ever showed up?"

Jean Grey's head dropped in shame, shifting uneasily where she stood. Her shoulder-length red hair fell down into her face, offering her temporary reprieve from Ororo's reproving cerulean gaze. Ororo stared at her and gave a helpless shake of her head.

"I'd advise you to save your excuses and apologies for Scott because whatever it is Logan and I share pales into comparison to what was supposed to be your commitment to Scott. He's the real victim in this comic tragedy."

Jean Elaine Grey could not remember a time she had felt so demeaned. It seemed to hurt a million times worse coming from Ororo – a woman whom not even blood could make more of a sister.

"Concern yourself with repairing that relationship first. As of now it is the only one that remains intact."

"Ororo, don't say that!" Jean cried, tears now flowing down her face freely.

Wetness began to form in Ororo's own eyes as she watched her fellow teammate and best friend weep openly in front of her. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had been too harsh. _Am I being cold . . . and brutish?_ Ororo listened to the woman's sniffling and sobbing and suddenly grit her teeth, hastily wiping away the moisture in her eyes.

No. She wasn't.

It was her _modus_ _operandi, _Jean. Manipulating those around her – the men in particular – with her beautiful and fragile damsel in distress routine. She always duped them and they succumbed to it hook, line, and sinker. Never had it much affected Ororo up until the recent dilemma involving Jean and Logan. Nevertheless it did now, and she wasn't fond of being included as a pawn in the telepath's manipulative little game of Chess.

Ororo cast her one last pitiful glance before walking past her and heading to the greenhouse. Inopportunely, at that moment, Ororo heard the Professor's telepathic summons echo in her mind, requesting all the team to assemble in the War Room. Ororo sighed miserably and spun back around, taking a deep calming breath before striding down the halls towards the elevator that led to the lower levels where all the X-Business presided. The heels of her stiletto boots clicked against the polished hardwood floors of the mansion as she walked up to the elevator and pushed the appropriate button located on the chrome panel. She stepped inside and prepared to go down when Jean walked in after her and crowded over to the opposite side, shooting hopeful looks in her direction. Ororo ignored her and pushed the button to the correct floor, both the troubled pair of friends riding the elevator in awkward silence. Ororo exited as soon as the doors slid open, hurriedly making her way inside the War Room among one of the first team members to arrive.

Professor Xavier sat in his wheelchair at the front of the large, rounded table beside Scott. Ororo took the seat on the other side of Charles and smiled at him faintly.

"Ororo," he greeted her.

"Afternoon, Charles."

The older man's gaze passed between her and Jean, who had taken the empty seat next to Scott. She wiped at her eyes and face – red, blotchy, and slightly puffy from crying earlier. Beside her, Scott regarded her curiously.

"Jean, Ororo, are you both alright?" he asked.

"Fine, Scott," Ororo answered simply, briefly meeting his shielded eyes. Scott turned to Jean. "And you?"

"Fine, I'm – I'm fine, too," she muttered, eyes downcast and avoiding all their gazes.

Charles observed them both knowingly and Scott frowned, clearly unconvinced.

For a moment, Charles wondered minutely if now was the best time to approach Ororo with this. But he figured if not now, when? There was no way to hide Gambit's presence in the mansion.

Bobby, Anna, and Warren were the last to file in, nearly one right behind the other.

Everyone took a seat, acknowledging each another with various salutations and nods of the head. Ever the leader, straightaway, Scott took a mental head count of each person present. Everyone was there. All except—

_Wolverine. _

Scott's jaw clenched, lips setting into a thin line.

Always Wolverine.

"Where is Logan?" Scott asked his team.

They all glimpsed around curiously, shrugging their shoulders. Anna – or Rogue as she was called in the field – seemed to think for a moment and snapped her fingers.

"Bobby and Ah saw him ridin' off on Cyclops' bike last night just as we were comin' in." She looked at Bobby who nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he probably just hasn't come back yet," he added.

Several inquisitive pairs of eyes glanced at Ororo and Jean. Somehow all knowing instinctually that it had something to do with the two women who both apparently had a thing going with the Wolverine, odd as it was. But Jean – she was supposed to be with Summers. The strange situation between the four – Wolverine, Storm, Cyclops and Jean – had led to numerous awkward moments amongst the team in the last several weeks. Even if they didn't know all the details, nearly all the team knew something unsettling was happening amongst their ranks.

Jean fidgeted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes, but Ororo merely stared down at the gleaming oak table, perhaps preoccupied with her own thoughts of where he was. Maybe.

"Well, we'll have to continue without him," the Professor pronounced. "Thanks to those of you here for coming. I asked you all here because I have an announcement to share with you all."

All of them nodded.

"I won't bother drawing this out or keeping you in suspense as I know we all have things to attend to and would rather get this over with so that we can."

Their expressions were grateful and Charles smiled slightly.

"We have a new mutant joining our ranks," he boasted. "He only just arrived today. You'd be surprised to know that a couple of you are already familiar with him; one of you in particular." He glanced at Ororo and everyone else followed suite in the direction of his gaze. Ororo's eyebrows drew together and she frowned openly.

Silence ensued.

"Uh, well . . . who is it?" Bobby inquired, just as curious as the rest of them were.

Charles stayed his eyes on Ororo as he spoke, her heart beginning to beat rapidly. _It couldn't be . . . please, please, do not let it be . . . _

"I'll let him introduce himself. Gambit . . . would you come in please."

All breath seemed bated as they waited anxiously.

A tall, slender man sauntered gracefully into the room, shades removed to display startling red on black orbs. The sclera was an incredibly fathomless obsidian, the irises a faintly glowing crimson.

There were various gasps and murmurs of awe as every eye in the room zoomed in on the mysterious stranger. His gaze, however, lingered only on one.

"Stormy . . . How y' been, _padnat_?"

Stunned gazes with even more stunned expressions shifted towards Ororo whose heart was racing so fast it almost felt like a panic attack. Her eyes were wild and frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights. Throat dry, stomach clenching painfully, even her breathing felt labored.

They all glanced at each other with wary concern, the tension and the atmosphere in the room seemingly charged with electricity.

"Do not—N-Never call me that. I to-told you not to call me that," she whispered coldly. Her eyes immediately filled with tears but were just as quickly disguised by the eerie whiteness they had become.

Too much. All of it was too much.

She bolted from the room so fast, no one reacted quick enough to stop her.

"ORORO! ORORO!" she heard someone yell after her, but she didn't know who. She didn't care who. So intent was she on making her escape, that she failed to notice Logan until she had smacked right into the solidness of his chest.

"Oof!"

Logan caught and held her secure, staring down at her with eyes narrowed in alarm.

"Darlin'? Whatsamatter, Ro? What's wrong?"

"Release me," she demanded. She tried to wriggle from his firm grasp, unshed tears blurring her vision. "Let me be."

"I need ta talk to ya, Ro. Some things I gotta explain to ya," he insisted. "Ro, what—"

"I SAID RELEASE ME!" she growled. Lighting streaked across the sky outside illuminating the hallway, followed by a boom of thunder that was loud enough to rattle the windows. Ororo wrenched herself from his hold and fled down the hallway in the direction of the small staircase that led to the attic loft.

Logan watched her disappear, bewildered and disconcerted. He contemplated following her when the hair on his arms and neck suddenly stood up. He sniffed and let out a barely audible growl, whirling around to catch a tall, sleekly formed man staring at him from the inside the doorway, the stranger's mouth firmly set in a scowl. Bizarre demon's eyes blazed back at him.

Logan's knuckles itched. He sneered at the man.

_Who in the flamin' hell was this?_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong> My appreciation and thanks to all of you who read and reviewed chapter one! Your comments were/are much appreciated :D _  
><em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three  
><strong>

* * *

><p>He didn't like the Cajun. And that's obviously what the man was judging by that ridiculous accent interspersed with even more ridiculous French.<p>

When Ro had torn out there like a bat out of hell, Logan had wanted nothing more than to follow after her and find out just what in the flamin' hell had happened. But it'd been Chuck that had instructed him to stay while the Cajun was introduced to the rest of the team. Seeing how he hadn't been in the meeting at the start, Logan figured the least he could do was comply. Grudgingly, he watched and listened as Charles went around the table and made the introductions.

"Everyone, this is Remy LeBeau, but he goes by Gambit. Gambit," the Professor extended an arm towards his surrogate X-children, "these are the rest of the team, the X-Men."

_Gambit_. Logan logged the name away.

"Gambit, this is Warren Worthington the III, our newest member. Well, second after you now. He goes by the codename: Angel. You can see why."

Remy nodded, staring at the man's wings, fluttering and glaringly white. Warren stepped forward and shook Remy's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Gambit."

"Likewise, _mon_ _ami_."

"This," Charles continued, "is Robert "Bobby" Drake. Codename: Iceman."

Gambit took his hand. "And yo' powers?" Remy asked.

"Oh, um, uh, I freeze stuff."

"Yeah?"

Bobby nodded, smiling proudly. "Gambit jus' t'ought y' had watched "_Top Gun_" too many times."

Bobby laughed loudly at the joke – too loudly, making it seem awkwardly out of place. The rest of them eyed him with humorous distaste and rolls of the eye.

Charles gestured next to a pretty brunette. "This here is Anna Marie, whom we call Rogue."

The woman twirled a single strand of white hair around her finger and offered her other gloved hand to Gambit who caught it immediately and laid a kiss on her knuckles. A blush spread across her cheeks. "Ah-Ah'm Rogue, like the Professor said."

"Charmed, ma chère."

Her smiled stretched further, reaching her green eyes.

"Is yo' power t' blind people wit' yo' beauty, chèrie?" he asked, grin heated and playful.

Anna's blush deepened as she let her hand drop from his. "N-No. Ah actually—Ah absorb the power of anyone Ah come in ta physical contact with. Their thoughts and memories, too."

"Ah-ha."

"Ah haven't fully learned ta control it yet, hence the gloves." She lifted one of her hands as an example, covered to her elbow in a dark green glove.

"Interestin'. Well, _Rogue_, its _tres bon_ t' meet a beautiful _femme_, like yo'."

She laughed and dropped her head shyly. Bobby rolled his eyes, followed by the sound of the Wolverine clearing his throat loudly_.  
><em>

Anna turned and shot Logan a look that screamed: "Please don't embarrass me!" to which he merely shrugged and directed his attention back towards the Cajun. Remy smirked at him and Logan frowned deeply.

"And you've already met Jean Grey and Scott Summers from your previous visit," Xavier said, continuing the introductions. "Jean is Scott's fiancée and one of the teachers here at the school. Scott is team leader, along with Storm. She teaches as well."

"Stormy?"

The man's pulse quickened at the mention of her name, Wolverine heard it and narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. _What the hell was that about_? Annoying Logan even further were the dark glares the man kept sending his way.

Scott leaned forward and shook Gambit's hand. "LeBeau. I have to say, we never expected to see you again after you left."

"Gambit full o' s'prises, _mon ami_."

That got Wolverine's attention. _He'd been here before?_

"Chuck, who the hell is this guy?" Logan barked impatiently. "What's he doin' here?"

"Logan," Scott issued, but the man barely heard it, too engaged in a silent stand-off with the new guy with the freaky eyes. _What in the hell was with those eyes anyway?_

"Logan, you were not present earlier when I briefed the team. Gambit is joining the X-Men; he is one of us now."

Logan's eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "What?"

For the second time that night, Gambit flashed him a smirk, and it was all he could do not to waltz over there and wipe the cocky grin off the Pretty Boy's face. Logan glanced around the room, studying the various reactions to the news. All of them watched the scene before them in complete silence. Conveying their confusion with subtle looks between each other and wearing bewildered expressions, he didn't even think they were conscious of.

"LeBeau," Scott spoke up, "this charming gentleman here is Logan, also known as—"

"De Wolverine," Remy cut in. All eyes turned to look at him and Scott's head quirked with speculation. One of the Cajun's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Heard o' him."

"Yeah?" Wolverine snarled.

"_Oui_. Not'ing good though."

"Then ya know not to f—k with me," Logan challenged, taking a swift step forward when he felt Marie's hand close on his arm.

"Logan. Don't," she pleaded quietly. The Canadian restrained himself long enough to stop and look at her, hearing the anxious tone in her voice. She softly shook her head 'no' at him.

The collective breathing in the room was bated, wary of the Wolverine's infamous anger and temper; the other members in the room regarded both men cautiously. The new stranger didn't seem to be any push over, either.

Logan turned from her and growled in frustration. "Well, whaddaya mean rejoin? I ain't never heard of this guy before today!"

"Gambit first came to the mansion several years back, before you arrived, Logan," the Professor calmly explained.

"Why? Fer what?" Logan demanded with a scowl.

"My Stormy."

Logan heard Anna gasp. Bobby and Angel glanced at each other, their confusion evident.

Gambit's burning eyes remained on Logan's. "_Yer_ Stormy? Ya mean, 'Ro?"

Gambit said nothing. Just stared.

_So, Gumbo here knows Ororo – Ro. How?_

Logan's ire rose belatedly. "And are you the reason she ran outta here like a bat outta hell?"

"Logan," Charles admonished.

"Dat's 'tween me and Stormy," Gambit fired back. His eyes flashed dangerously.

Logan uncrossed his arms. "That's where yer wrong, Gumbo. Ro is my business."

"She was my b'ness 'long time befo' she was ever yours, _homme_. Yo' bes' remember dat."

"Wanna run that by me again, bub?"

"All right, enough," Charles cut in firmly. "It's late, Gambit, Cyclops, I wish to speak with you two. The rest of you may leave."

He'd reluctantly decided to go. Before his claws had a chance to make an appearance. He watched Cyclops approach the Professor and begin chatting with him, leaving Jean alone by herself, gloomy and sullen in her disposition. He nearly went to her – nearly. The split second before he'd thought better of it. He was already in a pickle with Ro, all because he couldn't keep his damned hands to himself.

Logan had drew back almost as soon as he had begun to take the step forward. Dropping his head on a tired sigh, mentally conflicted. He glanced back up to find the newest team member watching him with a steely glare. The man's gaze quickly slid from Logan to Jean and back again. Nearly becoming ember slits as they rested on the Canadian.

It was a knowing look and he didn't like it; one entirely too telling for some squirt who'd only just arrived. It irked and unsettled Wolverine so much that he didn't even bother with his initial reaction, which was to tell the nosey Cajun to screw the hell off. He just cut hardened eyes at him and stalked out of the room . . . before he changed his mind.

_Couillon_, Gambit thought as he watched the Wolverine depart. He glanced to the side and observed the redhead – _Jean_, he recalled – leave only a few moments after. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, seeing the little episode between his Stormy and the hairy troll when she'd fled the room earlier and bumped into him out in the hall. Then the way the man had stared at Summers' woman right before he'd left.

No, it didn't sit well with him.

Gambit idly fiddled with the worn cards in his hands, turning his attention to the Professor who was waving him over from where he sat at the table with Summers. Didn't concern him who they were, if either the Wolverine or Jean hurt his Stormy, he'd have their asses.

* * *

><p><strong>2 DAYS LATER . . . . . . <strong>

Enough time had passed. He'd allowed her her alone time. Now he was going to march up there and say his piece, and she was going to hear him out because . . . Logan groaned silently. Because he needed her.

Two nights. Two nights he'd slept alone, without her pliant body filling his bed and his arms. And because she wasn't there filling his arms at night, the nightmares were free to fill his mind.

Two nights. Rough nights. He'd forgotten just how rough they could be after months of being nightmare-less and encompassed by her voluptuous body, lungs full her earthy scent suffused with hints of sandalwood and newly fallen rain.

Logan stared out of the large bay windows, watching the steadfast rainfall broken up by intermittent flashes of lightning and booms of thunder. He smacked a beefy hand against the glass of the window pane, turning and starting up towards Storm's loft. On the way, he passed Marie who threw a hand up and waved at him.

"Hi, Logan," she greeted with a cheerful smile.

"Aye, kid," he mumbled, nearly jogging in his pursuit to reach the attic loft. He arrived on the third floor, just beneath the attic staircase and found Jean at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at Ororo's bedroom door with an expression full of apprehension. She anxiously wrung her hands together.

"What are ya doing, Red?"

She made a startled noise and turned around, finding Logan only a few feet away, watching her with curiosity. Her pulse increased as her eyes roved over him, clad in a simple white ribbed tank and his signature close-fitting jeans.

He ignored his own urge to rake his eyes over her familiar slender form, and asked her again: "Jeannie, what are ya doin' up here?"

She blinked once, shaking her head of the blank daze she'd been in for a moment. "Uh—I wanted to talk with Ororo." She gestured to the staircase in front of them. "As you can see, I haven't worked up the courage yet."

Wolverine stared at her a few quiet moments, then he let out a breath and reached out to capture her arms, turning her to face him properly. Clarity he was after – to make sure she understood what it was he intended to say to her.

"I'm through, Jeannie."

Several blinks. A frown marred her pretty features. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm 'bout ta go up there and talk ta Ro, and when I do . . . this," he gestured between the two of them, "it's done. It's over."

Prevailing silence fell between them for several long moments as he let her absorb what he'd said. Jean's face fell, within a split second becoming a mask of indignation that nearly prompted Logan's eyes stretch with incredulity. "There a problem, Jean?"

"Do you really think so?"

"Think so about what?" he began to scowl.

Jean chuckled shortly. "That what's between us can be erased so easily?"

Logan deliberately kept his face blank. "And what is between us, darlin'?" He crossed burly arms.

"Don't pretend, Logan. I care for you. And you care for me, too."

"'Course I do," he told her, "that ain't ever gonna change, Red."

Relief washed over her face.

"But I ain't gonna play these games with ya anymore either. Not at Ro's expense."

He scratched the back of his neck, his next words reticent and resentful. "And . . . not Scooter's either," he added ruefully. Jean's eyes widened and she scoffed at him.

"Can't ya see what it is we're doin', Jeannie? Now look, I'm a mean son-of-a-b—h, but Ro . . . she don't deserve this and ya know it. Ya saw how she exploded the other day outside of the flamin' War Room."

Jean rolled her eyes. "That was because of Gambit," she interjected.

That took him aback. His forehead knotted.

"What's the Cajun gotta do with it?" Logan griped, frowning deeply. "Cocky bastard seems to be a friggin' nuisance, but he don't—"

"It - was - because - of - Gambit," she repeated slowly, accentuating her statement with emphasized pronunciation of each word.

He glared at her with child-like incomprehension, irritation growing. "Ain't got time fer riddles, Jean. I'm just lettin' ya know how it is between us," he said. In truth, speaking with more confidence than he truly felt.

All he knew was, yes, as of now, he was committed to being with Ororo. If she would allow him – he prayed she would. Vocalizing his own doubts, Jean responded, "I wish I could believe that Logan. I wish I could believe that we'll never touch each other again, that we'll never kiss, that the wanting will stop, but—" she took in a breath, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I can't honestly be sure and say that it won't. Nothing has changed."

"That's yer problem."

"And I don't think you can say it honestly either."

That angered him.

"Yeah?"

Her chin lifted, the gesture more or less smug, haughty, even. "Yes."

Without another word, he shouldered past her, curtly tossing over his shoulder: "Only time will tell, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you, darlin'."

His anger at her fueled his resolve. God, he hoped it wouldn't fail him.

* * *

><p>Ororo heard the knock on the door, the slight click and sound of it being opened, waiting to hear the heavy footsteps across her floorboards and the gruff voice of the man who owned them.<p>

"'Ro?"

There it was.

Logan crossed the room and stopped a few inches from where she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blindly out the glass doors of the balcony.

He squared broad shoulders, preparing himself. "I came up here ta talk to ya," he began.

"You assume I wish to listen to you." She exhaled quietly.

Logan took the next few steps, and stood directly in front her. He looked her over. Her appearance seemed normal, aside from her normally bright blue eyes, now dull and rimmed with red.

"Ya've been cryin'," he stated.

"It is from lack of sleep."

It was a lie and she knew it. But she wouldn't let him know that, especially since he wasn't the reason she had been weeping the last two days. Too ashamed to admit the true reason for her tears to the man before her.

Logan inspected the dark shadows under her eyes and nodded. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he sat down next to her. Ororo cut him a sharp look, that he chose to ignore.

"Ya've been up here a long time, darlin'."

"I have a calendar, same as you."

"Been worried 'bout ya."

"Really now?"

"Damn right. Been burnin' ta get some things off my chest."

"That must be painful."

"Ro—"

He scratched roughly at his coarse whiskers, already becoming exasperated with her chilly demeanor. A tick started in his jaw. Patience was not a virtue he was known for.

"Would ya look at me?"

Nothing.

"Fine." He arose and crouched down in front of her. "Listen, I'm sorry, Ro. Fer how I've been treatin' ya . . . it ain't right. I don't wanna lose what I got with ya. I don't wanna lose what we started ta build."

Her head turned slightly towards him then.

"I wanna be yers and you, mine. I mean that."

"Not Jean's?"

Logan stared.

_A flash of red hair. Laughter. Smiling green eyes. _

He shook his head of the blurred images, blinking a few times for good measure. "No," he swallowed. "Not Jean's. And fer what it's worth, I think she's sorry, too."

Ororo's mind drifted back to the redhead's tearful confession the other day, when they'd stood in front of her classroom.

Storm rose from the bed with a sigh. "Logan, I'm not really in the frame of mind to hear this."

He followed her. "Well, ya are, darlin'." Logan grasped her by the shoulders, imploring her in her stubbornness to look at him, the gaze never went any further than his barrel of a chest.

"I want ya, darlin'."

"And Je—"

"NO. Not Jean. It ain't gonna happen no more, Ro, I swear it. Done already told Jeannie."

"What am I supposed to say, Logan? Tell me. How am I to trust you in this? You knew of my feelings for you, but what we had remained undefined because I trusted you! I trusted you to be true to what we had even though it was without a label. And I honestly think that gave you the impetus to chase Jean this whole time. And, truth be told . . . you're right! You're free! I have no hold on you. You are not bound to me in any way."

"I never thought that, Ro. I never thought I was free of ya. I'd just been chasin' Jeannie fer so long that when me and you got together I didn't know how ta stop."

"That's not encouraging."

"Ro, being without ya the last few days—I been thinkin'—it's you I want, darlin'. Not Jean." He swallowed past the distinctly bitter half-truth with some difficulty.

There was no getting around that he remained very attracted to the redhead, and she him. He figured to some degree, he would always have a thing for her. In spite of it, Logan could admit readily that he felt like a fool for how his actions towards Jean had grieved Ororo over the last several weeks. So there, in her room, standing right before her, Logan did his best to project the sense of sincerity he felt outwardly as Ororo's canny blue eyes peered searchingly into his.

She turned from him moments later with a breathy sigh, moving over to the balcony where she stood and stared out the glass, rubbing her arms while she hugged herself in an attempt to generate a sense of comfort.

What would Logan say if he knew the real reason she had secluded herself up in her room the last two nights? That the reason she had bawled and bawled until she couldn't bawl anymore wasn't because of what had happened between him and her best friend, but because of what it had did to her when she'd first laid eyes on **him**, that darkly handsome Cajun who had – in an instant – reappeared into her life as if by magic?

That day she had seen him – the first time in six years – two overwhelming emotions had taken hold of her. The desire to wrap her hands around his neck and throttle the life out of him, warred with the desire to wrap her arms around him, bury her face in his chest and hugged him to her – to tell him how much she'd missed him.

Thankfully, she hadn't given in to either urge, which meant not only was the man alive and breathing, but she'd also retained some semblance of her dignity. As much as was left after she had ran out of there like a crazy woman.

That dream she'd had of him. It was as if she had willed the man to return, and all her buried memories with him. She didn't know how she would even face him, her belly roiled with anxiety and excitement just at the thought of his returning to her.

Her best friend. Closest companion. And one-time guardian.

Even now, torn at her situation with Logan, Ororo had to fight against the tiny grin threatening to worm its way onto her face at the warm memory of their camaraderie.

There had been so many. So many warm memories.

She allowed herself to remember, and nearly everything else became secondary.

"Did ya hear me, Ro?"

"_Ya hear me, Stormy?"_

"I said I love ya."

"_I love ya, petite. Y' my family, girl, always. Ma famille."_

Logan caught her around the waist, the solid heat of his chest pressing against her back, warming her, lulling her. He breathed in her scent and nearly purred with contentment as it filled his senses. Smiling when Ororo relaxed in his hold bit by bit after two days of being without it.

She squeezed the arms coiled around her. Deeper. Falling deeper into the tender memory.

_Ororo nestled quaintly in Remy's hold. Her body still trembling from the aftermath of her nightmare. Frequent as they were. His soothing touch on her back, slowly caused the trembles to subside. "Shh," he hushed her, rocking her in his arms, "it's okay, ma chère. Remy's here."_

"I'm here with ya, Ro. I ain't leavin' ya, darlin'."

Ororo's eyes drifted close in tranquility. "Promise?"

"_Promise, Remy? You won't leave me?" Ororo's eyes drifted close sleepily.  
><em>

Logan turned her face towards him with a gentle lift of her chin and pressed his lips to hers . . .

_. . . Remy leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Brushing back the white hair that had fallen from her loosened braid._

"_I promise, petite. Remy'll neva leave ya."_

"I promise, darlin'."

* * *

><p>Outside, Gambit drew deeply on the cigarette between his fingers, watching the idle smoke float up and away. He shoved a hand through his long locks, still damp from the shower he'd taken after his introductory session with Cyclops in the Danger Room.<p>

Danger Room was right, Remy thought with a smirk. His right shoulder ached, and he was sure the bruise located near his ribs would be a deep purple by tomorrow. He took a final drag then stubbed the cancer stick out on the bottom of his boot.

The rain had stopped. That also meant Stormy had stopped crying.

The fact only slightly relieved him.

_Stormy, Stormy, Stormy._

Gambit sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

What could he say to her? How much could he reveal while still making her understand? He hadn't seen that look of anger on her face for a long time. How frightening and beautiful she could be all at the same time.

He rubbed his hands together, leaning his weight on his knees as he sat on a small bench out on the mansions front lawn. How was he going to fix things with his _padnat_?

Remy turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw the brunette with the white streak of hair approaching him with a wave and a smile.

"Hey, there.

"Aft'noon, _chère_."

She walked up to him. "Can Ah join ya?"

He smiled kindly. "Pretty _femme_ like yo'? 'Course y' can."

Anna giggled and sat on the bench beside him.

"So how was ya first Danger Room session?"

"It was good," he told her. "Scotty don' pull no punches, _non_?"

Anna shook her head. "Nah, he's pretty tough. Guess he has ta be, being a leader. Did ya have Dr. Reyes take a look at ya? She's the med doctor here at the school."

"_Non_, Gambit be alright, _chère_. Scotty told me t' go see her, but I be fine. 'S jus' bruises."

Anna nodded. Her eyes darted beyond to a point over his shoulder and she frowned. Remy turned, and found a young girl with dark brown hair jumping on the back of the one who had introduced himself as Iceman that first day. The girl was giggling and screaming while Bobby spun her around wildly.

Remy smiled at them. Recalling a time long ago when he use to do that with a little Ororo. Spinning her around on his back, she protesting at first but always ending up laughing until her stomach ached.

Anna leaned in. "That's mah ex-boyfriend, Bobby. You've met him already."

"I 'member."

"The girl is Kathryn Pryde, but we all just call her Kitty. They say she might be joinin' the team sometime soon. She's like a super-nerd."

"Dat all she does?"

"And she can walk through stuff, like walls and doors. Calls it 'phasing'," she quoted with gloved fingers.

"Hm."

Remy sat back, legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles, raising an eyebrow with a slight look of mischief on his face. "Dere, uh, any other couples?"

Regardless of how he'd poised it, inwardly he knew the question was anything but casual.

"Well, Warren—ya know, Angel?—he dates a woman named Betsy but she doesn't stay here at the mansion. She's from England, Ah think. She's got this purple hair." She shook her head. "Anyway, Jean is Scott's lady, but thangs have been weird between them lately, the Professor, he likes this Scottish scientist named Moira MacTaggert, and Ah don't know what in tarnation is goin' on with Storm and Logan."

"Whaddaya mean?" he sat up.

"Well, ya know how Jean's with Scott?"

Remy nodded.

"It's strange 'cuz everyone knows she wants Logan."

"Ain't he s'posed t' be wit' Stormy?"

"Ah dunno," she shrugged. "Ah thought he was. They acted like it, like a couple. But with Ororo it's hard ta tell sometimes, she's a little icy, ya know? Fa' what it's worth, Ah think they have feelings fa' one another, but Logan still likes Jean."

"What's Cyclops t'ink 'bout dat?"

"Oh, he hates Logan. They argue all the time. Logan says he's a d—k and a boy scout."

Remy snickered.

"But he's a good guy, though, Logan. When ya get ta know him. He's the reason Ah'm here at the mansion. He's been a good friend."

Remy nodded and fell quiet, ruminating over what he'd learned.

Rogue fiddled with the ends of her hair, tapping her foot to an unknown rhythm. "You, uh—ya call Ororo, Stormy," she said after several seconds. "Earlier and on that day ya first came. How do ya know her?"

Remy sighed and stared up at the sky. His drawl was thoughtful. "Stormy an' I go way back t' when she was a _petite_ an' I found her in Illinois. We lived in N'awlins together. I took care o' her until she came back t' de mansion an' t' de X-Men."

"So that's where ya from?"

"Born an' raised in de Bayou," he grinned.

"What, so then, ya left?"

"A week after I brought her back."

Rogue wanted to ask why, but she didn't want to look nosey. She literally had to bite her lip to refrain from asking.

"She doesn't seem ta like it when ya call her Stormy," she said offhandedly.

"Nah, she don' mind," he laughed deeply with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Not really."

"Yeah? 'Cuz she looked madder than a wet hen when ya said it."

"_Non_, wasn't 'cause o' dat."

"Oh."

Silence.

"The rain's stopped." She glanced up at the sky, yellow rays just beginning to peek through the scattered clouds.

"Yeah." He needed to talk to her. "I'm gonna inside." To make things right with his Stormy. "Gotta talk t', 'Roro."

Remy hopped off the bench and started back in the direction of the mansion.

"Um, Logan's up there!" she snapped around and said, watching his steps falter. "Ah saw him headed up there when I was about ta come out here."

_Merde_.

"Maybe—Do ya wanna go somewhere?" she said to his back. "Maybe down to the Salem Centre and find something ta do?"

Remy sighed and turned back around to face her.

Anna held her breath in anticipation, bottle green eyes shining with hope.

Thwarted, the Cajun cast one wistful glance back at the mansion. He managed a crooked smile. "Sure, _petite_. I'll go wit' ya."

Rogue bit her lip to keep from smiling so hard.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Sorry about the lengthiness of this chapter. Love to hear your thoughts on what's unfolding. Any thoughts on what's ahead? Thank you for reading and reviewing :D

Ashra


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

><p>Logan had no nightmares that night.<p>

Ororo's curvy form nestled within the confines of his sturdy arms had warded the pesky things away all through the night, much to his relief.

Logan delved his nose into her thick – slightly tangled – mass of white hair, letting a pleased murmur rumble deep inside of his chest. That personal, natural fragrance of hers had virtually drugged and rendered him unconscious last night, pulling Logan into one of the deepest slumbers he could ever remember experiencing. He relished that.

And to think, he'd almost lost it.

Logan looked over at Ororo, and for a moment, stilled himself to concentrate on the softs sounds of her breathing while watching the steady rise and fall of her bosom. The soft snores emanating from her were the only sounds to be heard, outside of the incessant chirp, chirping of birds outside the bedroom windows. He watched her a few more moments still, then silently disengaged himself from her warm body. She stirred a little at the disturbance, muttering something vague under her breath. It was foreign, whatever it was. Swahili? Arabic maybe? Logan turned and quietly sat on the edge of the bed, doing his best not to disrupt her sleep again. He reached down and grabbed the shirt he'd so carelessly tossed on her floor last night when an unfamiliar scent invaded his nostrils.

Dark, hazel eyes tapered to slits. Logan brought the shirt to his nose out of curiosity and sniffed. The scent wasn't coming from the shirt, but it was definitely male – musky and sharp. Logan stood to his feet, shirt still in hand, and walked towards the center of the bedroom where the scent grew stronger.

***Sniff, Sniff***

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. All at once it seemed the scent seemed to hover in the air.

Somebody had been in the room and left.

Furthermore, Logan, with his unnaturally acute senses couldn't identify who it had been because the scent was wholly unfamiliar. That was when the realization hit him, and he scowled deeply.

_The Cajun._

* * *

><p>She began to stir again nearly an hour later, twisting this way and that before she opened her eyes and awoke fully. Ororo slowly sat up in the bed, frowning slightly when she realized she had slept in the same clothes she had worn yesterday. Ororo brought her hand out from under the covers and glanced down at her wristwatch. She was running late. She threw back her covers and stood, just then noticing Logan draped in the chair in the corner. He stared at her and she stared back, her expression slightly surprised.<p>

"Mornin', darlin'," he grunted from the chair.

She inclined her head to him. "Good morning, Logan."

He smelled of cigar smoke, and the doors to her balcony were opened telling her that he'd obviously went outside for a smoke recently.

Ororo Munroe peeked at her watch once more before quickly springing into action. She started towards the bathroom and began shedding her clothes, the articles deeply creased and wrinkled from having slept in them last night. Before she could shut the door, Logan had followed in behind her.

He leaned against the post and watched the scene before him.

Damn she was beautiful.

His eyes dilated on their own accord as he stood appreciating her nude form. All radiant, deep brown skin canvasing along a tall, svelte body. Ororo Munroe was a stunning contradiction in many ways. Indeed, the woman was tall and lean, but instead of the normal gangly bodies that most overly tall people seemed to have, she was, for lack of a better term 'thick' – in all the right places. And curvy. Very, very curvy.

Like her ample chocolate breasts, incredibly full and round. The same words he would use to describe her derriere – ample, full, and round. Curving out beautifully from the somewhat pronounced slope of her back.

His lazy ogling heated the blood in veins and kick-started his arousal. Almost in a daze, Logan grabbed her by the waist and pulled her bare form against his fully clothed one.

Feeling the slightly rough fabric of his denim jeans and his hard muscles against her back, Ororo nearly gave in to the obvious invitation. Even going as far as to sigh pleasurably when his roughened hands slid along her thighs, and up her stomach. Not only would she be ridiculously late for class if they continued, but in her split second of deliberation, Ororo remembered the conversation the two of them had last night before they'd crawled into bed and thought better of it.

"Logan, we can't. I have a class to teach."

Logan grunted in irritation as she pulled away and opened the glass door.

"Plus, we agreed last night that if we were actually going to be together this time around that I'd have to take this slow; one step at a time."

She caught the man's disappointed expression just before she entered the shower and closed the door behind her.

Logan remembered that exact conversation she spoke of and gritted his teeth. _Flamin' hell._ Inside, he knew he had no one to blame but himself (and perhaps Jean) for the weather goddess' wariness towards him. But damn it if it still bothered him – and his loins.

He watched her slightly blurry form through the steamed glass, smelling the scent of her bodywash and shampoo. That was when he remembered to ask.

"'Hey, 'Ro?"

"Yes?"

"The Cajun—er, Gambit . . ."

He noticed Ororo cease her movements momentarily as he took a seat on the closed toilet lid. He made sure to speak clearly over the sound of the running water. "How do ya know him?"

Ororo continued washing and answered him. "He—Remy—Gambit watched over me. He was—he was like my guardian, in a way."

She fought to keep the tremble from her voice.

Logan furrowed bushy brows. "What do ya mean yer 'guardian'?" he asked her. "How long have ya known him?"

"Awhile," she told him.

He waited for her to explain further.

"Do—Do you recall me telling you about The Nanny ordeal—? The de-aging?"

Logan grunted in the affirmative.

"Well, Remy is the one who found me and brought me back. Prior to that he took care of me. After I returned, I asked him if he wanted to stay—here, at the mansion. He did but . . . only for a couple of days afterward."

"Huh. So why'd he leave?"

Ororo said nothing for a while, only the shower water could be heard over the silence. "I do not know," she said finally. "That was nearly six years ago."

Wolverine _hmphed_ thoughtfully.

"So . . . ya both were friends then?"

Her hesitation was brief. "Yes."

Logan silently pondered this knowledge in his mind, his thoughts traveling to her reaction that day outside of the War Room. "So he **_was_** the reason ya were upset then, that day."

"Seeing Gambit was jarring and . . . unexpected," she offered in her defense. "And I was already upset prior to seeing him which didn't help matters." She didn't bother mentioning that it was because she had had an argument of sorts with Jean.

Logan nodded shortly. "He calls ya Stormy?"

Ororo scoffed. "Sometimes."

"And ya don't like it?"

"Do you like it when Jubilee calls you 'Wolvie'?"

"Touché," he grinned slightly.

The shut shower shut off and Logan watched Ororo climb out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. Her hair dripped and hung down around her waist in thick, wet strands. Mentally, Logan screamed as he observed the woman. Rubbing some sort of moisturizer into her swarthy skin, pulling on a pair of white lace panties. The color against her dark skin tone nearly made his mouth water. He bit hard down on his lip with his sharp canines, using the pain there to distract him from the pain he felt elsewhere.

"Why do you ask?"

"Uh—Huh?" he grunted distractedly.

"I said, why do you ask about Remy?"

Logan shrugged. "Just curious, darlin'." He thought about the man possibly being the one that had been there in Storm's loft last night. "I don't think I like him much."

Ororo snorted and shook her head. "No surprise there," she said. And it really wasn't to her. Remy and Logan were similar in too many ways for them to ever really like each other. The two men were both dangerous, both blatantly masculine, and both too attractive for their own good, though Remy was the more aesthetically beautiful between the two. His sculpted facial features were just masculine enough to make him truly beautiful without looking effeminate. Wolverine, contrarily, was completely male. Strong rugged features, bulging muscles, even down to his gruff voice. He was pure alpha male.

Logan walked her to her classroom before heading off to meet up with Chuck. Leaving her alone to prepare for her class, but not before he had probed her mouth with a deep and thorough kiss, still wound up from watching her slink around her bedroom earlier in the buff.

He tossed a: "See ya later, darlin'," over his shoulder before stomping off to pick a bone with Chuck.

* * *

><p>The morning seemed to pass by slower than usual much to Jean Grey's chagrin. <em>He didn't show up,<em> was all Jean could think about as she walked down the long empty halls. Logan wasn't anywhere to be found. Usually during her lunch, the Wolverine would come to find her or vice versa and the two would chat . . . which at times had led to less chatting on their part and more kissing and touching. But today she hadn't caught sight of him anywhere. It was jarring to consider that perhaps he had been serious when he had told her he was through yesterday afternoon.

She felt insulted, even though he was doing what it was she herself couldn't, which, obviously was the right thing to do – ending their dalliances. It still made her feel angry and slighted.

Fresh takeout bags in hand, Jean twisted the handle on the door to Scott's empty classroom and found him chatting happily on the phone. He was laughing at something the other person was saying on the phone and stopped abruptly when he swirled around in his chair to see his fiancée standing there.

"Uh, h-hang on a minute, Em," he said into the receiver.

Scott pulled the phone away from his ear and covered it with his hand. He stared at Jean expectedly a long moment.

"What is it, Jean?"

"Oh, uh," she stammered. Jean lifted the bag in her hand for him to see. "I've got lunch. I thought we could eat lunch together."

Scott immediately shook his head. "Ah, no thanks. I'm kind of busy. Just save mine for later."

He began to turn back around when she said: "Are you sure? Scott, aren't you going to eat?"

"Jean, I'm working," he huffed, nodding at the phone in his hand.

"Who is it?" she asked, frowning.

"The headmistress of Massachusetts Academy."

"Emma Frost!"

He gave her a look as if to say: "Duh!" and again swirled back around, though not before telling her to close the door when she left the room. Jean glared at his back a couple of more moments before swallowing down the ill feeling rising in her throat and walked back out the classroom, closing the door on Scott's laughter just as tears started to burn her eyes.

* * *

><p>The last student had only just shuffled out the door when Ororo slumped back in her chair with a noisy exhale. She rubbed at her pulsing temples, the pressure building behind her eyes signaling the beginning of a minor headache. Ororo pulled open her desk drawer and retrieved two Advil, swallowing the pills down with a swig from her water bottle. To relieve some of the pressure on her head, Ororo reached up and carefully began removing the small pins that kept her up-do in place. She felt the slightest shift in the air and instantly became alert. Her hands fell from her hair as she glanced up to find Gambit watching her, lazily perched on top of one of the many empty desks. He wore simple jeans and a T-shirt, his shining auburn hair hanging loose around his shoulders.<p>

For a moment, all Ororo could do was look at him. Letting her eyes scan every last detail. It was as if he hadn't changed at all in six years. The man was still sleek, still handsome, and still gave off an air of dark sensuality. If anything, he was even more handsome. She promptly shut her mouth, realizing it had been open, and dropped her gaze down to her desk. She willed her throbbing pulse and racing heart to settle.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice, though small, came out steady.

"Ah, so she speaks." Gambit's eyes sparkled from across the room, a slow smile curving his lips. "I got de impression y' were gon' act as if I didn' exist de whole time."

"Well, I kind of got used to it after six years where you virtually didn't," she spat.

The small twinkle in his eyes vanished. Ororo's breathing quickened with her sudden burst of anger. She found herself panting slightly and her chest heaved faintly with the effort. She lowered her head, suddenly feeling vulnerable, exposed. The fact that the man had been in her presence for less than five minutes yet already had her roused and trembling with bitter resentment only made her angrier at him. She stood and jerked open her briefcase, she hastily shoved in her notes and agenda, fully preparing to get out of there as soon possible before her temper got the best of her.

"I need t' talk t' yo', chère."

"What about?" she snapped impatiently.

"You kno' what."

Ororo scoffed and shook her head vigorously. "No. No, I do not want to."

"So y' made time t' talk t' yo' friend de Wolverine yesterday, but no time fo' me, eh? Dat how it is now?"

Her head snapped up. "What?" she exclaimed. "What makes you say that?"

He ignored her question. "After all we been t'rough, girl? I'd say y' can at least give me a bit o' yo' time, chèrie."

That stopped her. Immediately, Ororo paused, her hands slowly releasing their tightened grip on the handle of her bag. She sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling, her eyes drifting close, inside knowing he was right. Ororo took several deep breaths before reopening them again.

"Alright, Remy. You're right. I'm—I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a moment and nodded. "_Bon_." Glancing quickly at the opened door, an idea suddenly came to Remy. He smiled and jerked his head in the direction of the windows, where the late afternoon sun was just beginning to dim.

"Come, chère. Let's go fo' a walk."

* * *

><p>"Have y' missed me, girl?" he asked as they walked towards the lake located near the back of the property. He looked to her for an answer.<p>

"Why?" she shrugged. "What would it matter?"

"Matters a lot, chère. Fo' starters it'd mean y' still care 'bout dis Cajun."

"Remy—"

"I missed you, 'Roro. Mo' den I can say."

Ororo said nothing at his show of honesty, just continued staring ahead as she walked, deliberately avoiding the pointed stare he gave her, burning the side of her face as she and he strolled together.

"I kno' y' mad at me. Dat I hurt you, but . . . I'm sorry, ma chère. Remy neva wan' t' hurt you, ever. Not if he can help it."

Ororo stopped at the edge of the lake and met his gaze for the first time since they'd begun their stroll. "Then why did you?" She crossed her arms and stared at him. Gambit ignored the small flutter in his stomach as she gawked at him with those exotic cat-like eyes of hers.

"Didn' feel right here," he admitted finally. Remy dropped down near the lake's muddy bank, picking up a broken twig where he began to fiddle with it. "Dere was business left unfinished. Some personal t'ings. I had t' work dem out on my own."

Ororo joined him on the grass, curling her long legs under her. "Why did you come back?" she asked him.

He looked at her then, sincerity shining in his peculiar eyes. "'Cuz yo' need me. An' I need you."

Ororo's face warmed at his words.

"I just felt y' needed me. Dat somet'ing wasn' right wit' you."

From the look on her face, Remy could tell that particular intuition of his had been spot on, but he didn't say anything to her – not yet. "It's my job t' take care o' you, girl. Always has been."

Ororo turned away. "Maybe at one time," she muttered softly.

"_Non_, always. Y' a part o' me, an' I can't ignore dat." He hesitated for a second. "But wha' I realized while I was gone Stormy, is dat t' ignore you is t' ignore myself."

Storm couldn't help the look of shock she wore on her face. It'd been unexpected to hear him say something like that.

"I can take care of myself now, Remy. Not to mention other people have risen to take care of me in your absence."

"Like de Wolverine?" he couldn't help but sneer.

"You've only known each other a few days and you both already do not like each other."

"Not when he upsets my Stormy."

Ororo turned curious eyes on him. "What do you mean when he upsets me? You do not even know him."

"I ain't no fool, chère. I saw y' both in de hallway dat first day."

"Oh, that's right. The only one who can hurt me is you."

Ororo saw him wince at her clipped tone and she regretted it immediately. She told him as much. "I am sorry."

He grinned softly at her. "'S okay, chère. I deserved dat." He waved off her comment dismissively.

"Remy?"

He looked at her. "_Oui_?"

"You left me alone. Without a word, in the night – you just left me. No explanation. Do you know much that crushed me, Remy? To have you walk out on me that way? Especially since I—considering how much I care for you?"

He inhaled sharply. "Didn' kno' how strongly you'd feel 'bout it, ma chère. I didn' kno' it mattered so much."

"Of course," she said flatly. "You've always underestimated how much you mean to me."

His troubled gaze lifted to find her staring back at him with determined glacial orbs. "It's just like you said. If I'm a part of you, then you're a part of me."

Remy's heart thudded against his chest.

"Weren't we partners?—_padnats_?"

"'Course, ma belle," Remy said urgently. He reached over and took her hands. "We are, dat's neva changed. Haven't I told y' a thousand times dat y' my family, always?"

"Yes, Remy, you did! At the same time you were telling me that you'd never me leave me!" A tear slipped from her eye then, betraying her. She swiped at it viciously. Scowling and angry at herself for letting him see it.

Neither of them had anything to say to the other for a long while after that. What could he say to her accusation? He didn't want her crying; her tears weakened him. She wouldn't understand if he told her what was really on his heart and mind to say. So he tried something a little lighter.

"So, my Stormy datin', eh?"

Ororo grinned a bit at the change in tact and rolled her eyes at him, wiping at them one last time for good measure. She tried to hide her smile.

"Ah, don' be coy, chère. Remy kno' de mountain man is yo' boyfriend."

Her blue eyes stretched wide. "And how do you know that for certain?"

He shrugged. "Anna told me."

"Rogue?"

Ororo laughed and shook a finger at him. "Not even a week back at the mansion and you are already chasing down women."

"Jus' tryin' t' keep up wit' y', _chère_."

Ororo released a small chuckle. Closing her eyes and leaning back against a tree. A companionable silence settled between them. Something like the old times, when it was just he and she.

"Is it serious 'tween y' two?"

Ororo opened an eye and looked at him.

"Do y' love him?" Remy glared at her. His expression and tone was so tense, so serious, it made her heart stutter.

Ororo sat up slowly. After a moment her head quirked thoughtfully to the side and she expelled a deep sigh.

"Logan and I are complicated, but . . . yes, I do believe I am falling in love with him."

Remy pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of one his back pockets. Slightly shaking hands coming up to light the end of the cancer stick between his lips.

"Dat's good. I mean dat's—good fo' y' Stormy." Remy blew out a thick plume of smoke and cleared his throat roughly.

Ororo stared off ahead at the eerily still lake. It was past dusk now, and the last surviving rays of the sun glistened down on the stagnant waters.

"I am not quite sure he feels the same though," she murmured softly. Remy listened in carefully.

"Whatchu mean, chère?"

"I just . . . believe his feelings are . . . divided."

Remy plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "Well, chere, if dat's de truth, den de man's a fool. I don' understand how any _homme_ could have y' fo' his own an' not love y' completely. Yo' a goddess."

Ororo smiled at him, the gesture bright in the encroaching darkness. Remy winked at her.

She opened her mouth to speak but then seemed to hesitate. Gambit looked over at her and frowned. "Wha' is it, chère?"

Ororo swallowed hard, her emotions forming into a tight ball that seemed to lodge itself in her throat. She felt water begin to form in her eyes and before she could think to restrain herself, Ororo had closed the distance and flung herself over on Gambit, embracing him fiercely.

"_Mon Dieu_! _C-Chèrie_?"

"Remy. Oh, Remy LeBeau, how I've missed you! I have, I've missed you so much."

Slow tears began to leak out of the corners out her eyes and she squeezed them shut futilely in an attempt to keep them in. But they fell against her will, rapidly dampening his T-shirt as they dropped. Ororo burrowed her face into his neck, inhaling him, breathing him in, for the first time in six years.

He held on just as tight. The action seemed to open up the floodgates within her and she sobbed openly.

"When you left, it-it wounded me. It felt as if something vital had been cut off from me. I thought maybe you had left because I had angered you or—that perhaps you'd developed seconds thoughts. That you had doubts about staying here with the team. After I'd discovered you'd left, Xavier had asked me if I wanted him to find you and I told him no. It killed me, but I told him no, because whatever reason you had for leaving I wanted to respect that – I wanted to respect you. Because I care for you, Remy LeBeau. I always have, and I always will."

Gambit's heart broke as he sat listening to his _padnat_'s heartfelt confession. His own eyes began to water and burn and before he could stop them, slow, rare tears began to course down his cheeks. He sniffed and stroked her silky white hair, her back, with soothing delicate strokes – just like he'd used to.

"I'm so sorry, 'Roro." He pulled back and lifted her face from his neck, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks with the sensitive pads of his thumbs. Ororo's eyes drifted close and she exhaled shakily.

"I'm sorry. I jus' couldn'—I—oh, ma chère, Remy's sorry."

He buried his face into her chest this time, and Ororo held him just as he'd did her. Running slender fingers through his long hair.

"It's alright, Remy, it's alright," she comforted him. "I am not angry with you, it was just—I missed you so much."

She turned and kissed the side of his face, her lips grazing his ear, and she felt him shudder within her arms. "Thank the Bright Lady, you've come back to me." She pinched his side and he cried out, laughing slightly.

"Chère!"

"Don't do it again, Remy LeBeau. Promise me."

The Cajun's usual deep drawl suddenly became serious and he lifted his hands to her face, leaning in to brush his lips ever-so-slightly against her own. The feel was so soft, so moist it nearly broke his heart all over again.

"Remy promise, chère. " He grinned cheekily then, and winked at her. "Next time I jus' take y' wit' me."

Ororo laughed in that deep, throaty voice of hers, and pulled him back into another tender hug.

Her Cajun was back. A part of **_her_** was back.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thanks for reading & reviewing :D More on the way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

><p>Ororo had gone to bed that night with her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Six years to be exact. The two partners and former thieves had spent the entire night catching up, reminiscing about the past they'd shared together. Ororo wasn't surprised to learn of the wily exploits the Cajun had had while away, the danger he'd put himself in. Would the man never learn? But she loved him for his spontaneous nature, and whenever he was around, he brought out her own spontaneity like no one else could.<p>

As they huddled together under a large, yawning Oak near the lake, laughing and joking freely, Ororo was taken back to another place and time. She couldn't help but muse wistfully over the adventures they'd shared together – Bonnie and Clyde. In New Orleans – their old stomping grounds – and up and down the Gulf Coast. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor – well, mostly giving to the poor. They'd still had to make a living after all. And while Remy LeBeau told her tale after tale, his red and black eyes wide and animated with excitement, a part of her couldn't help but wish she had been able to join him during those six years.

**x x x**

"It a rainforest up here, ain't it, girl?" Remy had said while gesturing to the various plants scattered around the loft. They'd just come back from the lake, and after an evening where'd they'd both laughed and joked like hyperactive children, Ororo had grown tired. Happy but tired.

"I fo'got y' were Mother Nature in de flesh, _chèrie_."

Ororo rolled her eyes at him. "And what are you, my friend?" She bent down to grab a nightgown out of her dresser bureau. "Besides the Cajun Casanova and ladies' man, I mean?"

Gambit grinned at Ororo secretively. "Jus' a t'ief, _chère_. Jus' a t'ief."

"And an X-Man," she reminded him.

He stared at her a moment before nodding slowly. "_Oui_. And an X-Man."

The former goddess sat down on her bed and waved him over, a grin on her face, and patted the empty space next to her. "Come and get in," she called him over. Still in a playful mood from earlier. "I'm going into the bathroom to change into my nightclothes and then I'll be right out."

The once delighted smile he'd worn on his face faded. He shook his head no at her. "Sorry, _chère_, but not t'night. Don' t'ink yo' man would like dat much."

Ororo inclined her head towards him in understanding. "Right." She hadn't even thought about it. Last night had been the first time in several weeks that she and Logan had shared a bed – she simply hadn't realized. Without a doubt, things had changed since the last time she and Remy had been together – when it was just them on their own. Neither one of the duo had understood just how much up until then. The days were long gone when she could crawl in his bed or he hers and cuddle up together until they both fell asleep. The difference all of a sudden felt drastic. Remy LeBeau wasn't sure how much he liked it either.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

Remy didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to.

"So, where's your room?" she said, her head titled curiously to the side.

"Oh, um, it's de one right beside Rogue's."

One of Ororo's white brows rose in amusement. "Is it now? How convenient for you."

"No, not'ing like dat, _chère_," he laughed a little. "It ain' wha' y' t'inkin'."

"Hm. At least night yet, right?"

He answered her with a mysterious wink of his dark eyes, and Ororo laughed. She'd been doing a lot of that tonight; it felt odd but good after a horrendous couple of weeks. The tall African stood and walked over to him, her arms affectionately coming to wrap around his waist. "Goodnight then, Remy," Ororo bid him softly. "I'm glad we had a chance to talk things over."

"Me too, girl. Remy can' stan' when his Stormy mad at him. Don' wan' t' take de chance o' lightnin' strikin' dis boy wit'out warnin', _non_?"

Ororo's chuckle came out muffled against him. "Never," she laughed. "I would never do that to you and you know it."

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her arms. "I kno'."

"And don't call me Stormy or I just might."

**x x x**

A half an hour after he'd left, Wolverine had come trudging up the stairs. Finding Ororo awake, her bedside lamp on, staring blindly up at the skylight in the ceiling.

"Hey, darlin'."

"Hello, Logan," Ororo turned, watching his approach.

He strode over towards the bed and looked down at her. "You alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she told him sincerely.

Logan nodded, sitting down on the bed to remove his boots.

"And you? How did your talk go with the Professor?"

"Same ol', same ol'. Nothing new. Just more dead ends." He ran his hands through his dark hair with frustration and Ororo frowned at him, scooting closer to rub his back in a show of comfort.

She sighed sympathetically at his plight. "I'm sorry, Logan."

"Don't be." He lay down on his back and pulled her over to him, kissing her deeply while leisurely running his hands down and over her velvet nightgown. "It ain't yer fault, darlin'." He kissed her again and continued groping the soft body stretched out on top of him. "So, did ya find out what the Cajun wanted?"

Ororo drew back slightly, squinting down at him. "What do you mean?"

"The Cajun. He was up here this mornin', in yer room while we were sleepin'. I was nappin' so hard I didn't even notice 'til I woke up and smelled him."

"Oh . . . right."

That was news to her. Remy hadn't mentioned it at all. "Yes, yes, I spoke with him earlier. Everything's fine."

"Okay." Wolverine kissed her slowly, strategically shifting to the side and swiftly rolling her under him. He placed his arms on either side of her head. He bore his immense weight on his forearms to keep from crushing her.

"Mmm," he groaned near her ear, lowering his lips to the tender skin right below her ear and nuzzling it. "Ya feel so good darlin'." Ororo gasped softly when she felt his hand inching boldly underneath her gown. "So good."

Her hands were on his belt buckle then. Spreading wide the front of his unzipped jeans. Her action was a pleasant surprise on Logan's part. After last night and this morning – considering all that had happened between Ororo, Jean, and himself – he figured he'd have to do a little coaxing, maybe even a little begging for them to be with each other this way again – and so soon at that! But his old worries flew right out of his mind as he growled lowly at the feel of her body beneath his. Their love-making was different from all the other times. He didn't know if Ororo felt it, but he did for sure. It was . . . tender, so unlike their other times, being as wildly passionate as they both were. He was thoughtful in his handling of her, surprising the weather goddess with whispered endearments like: "I love you" as they came together continually for each other's mutual pleasure. And for the first time, with startling clarity, he realized that he **meant** the words. Actually meant them.

The Wolverine loved Ororo.

He hadn't changed fundamentally, and neither had Ororo – but his perspective had been altered. For the first time the Wolverine's eyes were truly opened, where usually they were blinded by either lust or rage. He understood finally that this was what the goddess had been offering all along – love, affection, and understanding. All he'd ever had to do was return it.

How simple it all had been. What a **fool** he had been. He was just glad she had given him another chance.

* * *

><p>"Could ya pass me the salt there, sugah?"<p>

Remy absently passed Rogue the salt shaker and his eyes immediately returned to the entrance at the front of the cafeteria against his will. He took his fork and fiddled around with the sausage on his plate, determined not to look to the front of the cafeteria for Stormy. But his eyes strayed there anyway. Where was she? No one had seen her all morning.

Bobby sat at the table with Kitty, Jean sat next to Cyclops, and Rogue sat on the seat next to him. Warren, he learned, was not at the mansion. Only the Wolverine and Storm were M.I.A. He was considering whether or not to go and find her, when Cyclops' voice broke through his thoughts.

"Ay, LeBeau. You up for a DR session after breakfast?"

"Y' got a class t' teach, _non_?"

Scott Summers shook his head. "Nope. Not this morning. But I would like for you to get in as much time in the Danger Room as possible."

"Scott," Jean Grey leaned in to her fiancé and murmured under her breath. "I was hoping I'd have that chance to talk you. We really haven't spoken to each—"

"There will be time for that later, Jean. It's more important that Gambit get acclimated in every way and as soon as possible. We never know when we'll get called in on a mission and I want him ready."

The redhead looked as if she wanted to argue the point with him, but her eyes fell back down to her plate instead and she opted to say nothing, which seemed to satisfy her fiancé just fine. He shot her a pitiful look and shook his head at her before turning back towards Gambit. "So what do you say?"

Gambit shrugged. "Alright, _mon ami_. _D'accord_."

The two men got up to leave and Rogue followed on their heels. "Ah think Ah'll come and watch you two boys."

Jean watched them go forlornly.

"Come weekend we'll have a team session that'll include everyone, so you can get used to the team dynamic," said Scott as they exited the cafeteria and made their way to the lower levels.

Jean watched them go and fought back the tears that suddenly sprung to her eyes. God, she felt so alone. No Logan. No Ororo. And now, no Scott? The telepath's green eyes roamed over the large cafeteria, watching the horde of chattering, laughing students, all of them oblivious to the lone teacher and sole occupant sitting at the teacher's table by herself. She was all alone in a room full of people. Is this what it had come to?

Swallowing down a wave of sadness, Jean got up to dump her tray and leave the buzzing cafeteria to finish grading the tests she'd put off yesterday, all the while wondering what it was she was going to do to fix the situation she found herself in.

**x x x**

"Looks like he's done this before," Rogue commented as she and Scott watched Gambit run smoothly through the current advanced-level program.

Scott shook his head. "He hasn't. The Danger Room wasn't fully operational when he was here the first time."

"Then wherever he picked up skills like that is certainly a mystery. Ah'd bet he could hold his own in a one-on-one with Wolverine." A hint of awe in her voice.

Scott gave Rogue a knowing look. "You certainly seem to admire his skills."

"Who?"

"Gambit."

Rogue shrugged her shoulders. "Ah'm just saying he looks like a good fighter," she replied defensively. But her suddenly beet red cheeks belied her casualness. Scott rolled his eyes at her from behind his red glasses.

Down in the center of the Danger Room, Remy had just smashed the jaw of yet another holographic member of the Friends of Humanity when he heard Scott's voice over the mike from up in the observation deck blare throughout the room.

"Okay. That's it for today, LeBeau. Nice work."

Gambit turned and saluted them, before flicking his bo staff around with a flourish and pocketing it in a belt around his waist, a cocky grin spreading across his features.

"Kid wasn't half bad was he?" Logan said after stepping forward, having caught the tail end of Remy's DR run.

Scott glanced over his shoulder at the new intruder. "Yeah. Actually, Rogue was just saying how she thought he could give you a run for your money," he echoed, never missing an opportunity to take a jab at his reluctant rival.

Logan scoffed derisively, indignant. "That'll be the day. Plus, the kid here's just biased." He jerked his thumb at Rogue. "Her hormones are doin' the talkin'."

Anna Marie whirled on him in fury. "That ain't true, Logan!"

"Sure it is," he scoffed. "Ya like ol' Gumbo." Logan leaned into her a fraction and sniffed. "I can smell it on ya," he smirked.

Anna's lips thinned into a hard line right before she stormed out of the observation deck, her cheeks on fire. Wolverine laughed brusquely, amused at her little temper tantrum. Sometimes he wondered just how much of him she had absorbed from that time she'd used his regenerating abilities to heal herself.

His laughter ceased when he caught a glimpse of the tall Cajun sauntering off in the direction of the men's locker room. He headed that way without another word, leaving Scott to analyze the Danger Room data while he went off after the Cajun.

**x x x **

Gambit shut the shower off and grabbed his towel hanging on a nearby hook. He let his long hair drip dry as he wound the towel around himself, moving towards the lockers and pulling out fresh clothes, a bit crumpled from having stuffed them in carelessly. He grabbed a pair of jeans and paused, a slow smirk crossing his face.

"Ah . . . so t' wha' do I owe dis pleasure, _mon ami_."

Wolverine stepped forward from his post near the locker room doors and stopped, concealing his own startled surprise that the man had been aware of his presence. It almost made start to have a begrudging sense of respect for the the Cajun. But not quite.

"What were ya doin' in 'Ro's room?" Logan asked, bypassing any formalities and witty banter. "Y' were there the other night and last night too; I could smell ya. Why were yer up in Storm's room?

Remy turned back around, laughing under his breath. He pulled the rest of his clothes out of his locker and began tugging them on heedlessly. "T' talk t' my Stormy. But dat obviously didn' happen since she had guests. Dat a problem?"

"She ain't yer Stormy."

Gambit pulled his fitted shirt down over a washboard stomach and froze, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "_Non_?"

"No. She ain't."

"Why, y' jealous, _mon_ _ami_?" Gambit's brow rose challengingly.

"Hell no," Logan scoffed, shooting the other man a withering glare. "Just wanted ta be clear."

Gambit chuckled and slammed the locker door closed with a loud clang. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and leaned against the metal doors, his arms crossed along with his ankles, one over the other.

"But since yer the one sneakin' around her bedroom and whatnot, maybe I should be askin' you that question."

"No need t' be jealous over somet'ing dat already belongs t' me," the taller man shrugged nonchalantly.

Wolverine's back straightened so he stood full height. "That's just it, Gumbo. She don't belong ta ya."

"Me an' 'Roro got a connection dat exists outside o' de X-Men. She an' I, we _padnats_. Been t'gether t'rough thick an' thin. Dere ain' nuttin' y' can do 'bout dat, _homme_. It is wha' it is."

The Canadian unfolded his arms, his hands twitching by his side. "The hell I can't, bub."

Gambit's eyes went to the other man's clenching fists and back up again, a small smile playing across his lips. Seemingly out of thin air, Gambit produced a pack of cards in his hands, a glowing index finger trailing over the edges slowly, the plasticized cards now a bright magenta.

"Wha' y' plan on doin', _homme_? Y' wanna make a move?

Wolverine flexed his hands involuntarily. "If it weren't fer 'Ro we wouldn't be talkin' still. I'd be handin' you yer ass on a platter. Like I shoulda done that first day ya dragged yer ass back here."

Gambit laughed then, still skillfully flipping the cards over in his hands. "_Oui_, blame 'Roro. Suddenly y' care 'bout her so much, right? Where's de redhead y' were sniffin' after?"

A low growl emanated from Logan warningly. "Careful, Cajun."

Gambit chuckled. "Oh, did I hit a soft spot, _mon_ _ami_?"

Another growl.

"Hnh. Looks like I did. An' it look like Gambit dragged his ass back jus' in time. Y' see, I ain't no fool, _mon_ _brave_. Gambit ain't gon' see y' hurt Stormy."

"You ain't gotta worry about me hurtin' Storm. Last time I checked it was you that ran out on her in the middle of the night. Imagine . . . runnin' out on 'yer Stormy' like some common coward. Don't seem like yer one ta throw stones, Gumbo."

The other man's black eyes glinted menacingly, the firm clench of his jaw barely imperceptible, but the Wolverine caught it, and he smiled in response to the silent threat.

"Look, I dunno know what kinda history ya have with Storm and ta be honest, Cajun, I don't really care. You just mind yer place where 'Ro is concerned. She may have been yer Stormy back when ya takin' care of her an all, but that was a long time ago. You left and someone else came in ter fill yer spot. Can't say I blame ya, but I'm tellin' ya still: watch yerself."

The entire pack of cards glowed furiously in Gambit's trembling hands as he watched Logan cast one last cutting glance his way before stalking out the locker room.

"_Merde_!" Gambit cursed loudly, slamming his palm against the metal lockers. The locks on the doors rattled nosily from the impact. Fuming, Remy paced back and forth between the wooden benches, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration.

Wolverine was right. The damn _couillon_ was right. Dammit! He was treading somewhere he had no say anymore. He wasn't used to that. He wasn't accustomed to someone standing in his way where Stormy was concerned. Hadn't she been his first? Hell, he'd been the one that had taken care of her, protected her – where had the Wolverine been then?

He'd left to get his mind together, to get his thoughts back on track, and all of the sudden he's the odd man out? Having to take insults from another man on how he behaved around **his** Stormy? What ate at him the most was that he was one at fault. If he hadn't left . . .

If he hadn't left . . . what?

That was a question he didn't want to answer right now. No point torturing himself further with fantastical wonderings about the past. Oh, but the present was so cruel.

Gambit tossed his sopping towel into the laundry hamper and flung open the changing room door. He dug into his back pockets for his coveted cigarettes, ending up on one of the verandas overlooking the rear of the mansion, the expansive lawn boasting neatly cut crass, healthy and green. He wondered absently if Storm had anything to do with that. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, sucking in deeply, relishing the small rush of nicotine in his lungs.

After several moments alone with just him and his thoughts, the Cajun heard noise and voices echoing behind him. Warren, Bobby, and Kitty appeared out on the veranda, laughing and joking about something amongst themselves. The trio stopped when they saw Gambit. Anna's emerald eyes danced at the sight of him, breaking out into a broad smile.

Warren ran a hand through his golden-blond hair. "Er, where we interrupting you, man?"

Gambit blew out a cloud of smoke. _Yeah, sort of_, he thought. "_Non_. Y' fine. Remy was jus' 'bout t' go back inside anyway." He stubbed out his cigarette prematurely and started for the doors.

"Hey, why don't ya stay and play cards with us?" Anna suggested.

"Yeah," Bobby said, eager to win some money. "Are you any good?"

Gambit grinned. Too easy, this. And he was never one to pass up on a card game. Plus what else was there to do? Sit around and mope?

"_D'accord, mon amis_." Gambit slid a chair out from under the patio table and dropped down into with a loud sigh. "So," he quipped, hands splayed in mid-air, "who's dealin'?"

* * *

><p>Jean was waiting for Scott when he stepped through the door.<p>

The X-Men's leader froze midstride when he caught sight of her, then shook his head, expelling a heavy sigh of exasperation.

"I don't have time for this, Jean."

"Lately you never have time, Scott. What now?"

"I have a phone call to make, and when that's finished, Ororo and I are meeting with the Professor to discuss Kathryn joining the team," he said to Jean.

"So, what? You can't make the call with me in the room?"

"I'd rather not."

Jean Grey bit down her bottom lip. She slowly stood to her feet and shook her head from side to side. "Scott—"

"Logan's probably waiting around for you anyway."

She watched with astonishment, Scott go to the door and hold it open for her. "Why don't you go check if he is?"

The set of his jaw was rigid, same as his back, standing ram rod straight by the door. No wavering. He watched her from behind his ruby-quartz shades and Jean struggled to hold back the waterworks.

The way he was behaving, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. This wasn't her Scott. He never, ever had acted this way towards her before.

As soon as Jean had stepped a foot out into the hall, the door was slamming shut in her face. She stood there, blinking tearfully, until she heard the phone ring on the other side of the door. She could barely make out her fiance's voice as he answered the phone.

"Hello, Emma, how's it going? . . . . Oh, don't I know it . . . . "

The redhead standing face-to-face with the door, simply turned – wiping away the tears that had fallen – and miserably made her way towards the second level where the bedrooms were situated. Once again, finding herself making the trip alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's<strong> **Note:** TBC next update.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"The kid should be back now, shouldn't she?"<p>

She stared up at Logan. "Are you worried?"

"Nope. Jus' don't like her 'round the Cajun."

Ororo's eyes narrowed at him. "Logan . . ." she warned.

"Alright, alright." The man held his hands up in a show of surrender.

"In case you haven't noticed, Rogue is a grown woman. She's not the same scared little teenager you brought to the mansion years ago. And for your information, Rogue is perfectly safe with Gambit. If anyone should know that it's me. I'd trust Gambit with my life, and I have. He's never let me down."

"Yeah." Logan scoffed. "'Cept that time he left ya high and dry without a word."

"He's apologized for that." The Canadian rolled his eyes.

"And it's not like he left me stranded in a desert somewhere. He brought me back to the mansion and made sure I was alright before he left, Logan."

"Ya don't have ta defend him ta me, 'Ro. I know Gumbo's yer friend and all that."

"Obviously I do. He's a part of the team, Logan. And an X-Man. **Your** teammate."

Logan sighed. He bit back his words for the sake of peace. Inciting an argument with Ororo wasn't something a person should do if they were wise, not even the "world's most dangerous man," Wolverine.

"And Rogue is the lucky one to be in his company," she added.

"That so?" Logan's brow rose, his thick arm still draped around Ororo. "A bit jaded ain't ya, darlin'?"

Ororo shrugged and smiled gently. Logan let his mouth curve into a grin and leaned in to kiss her curling lips. "Yer even luckier ta be here with me, ya know." Another peck.

"Aww, c'mon," Bobby groaned from the hallway, a bowl of potato chips in hand. He walked into the living room with Kitty in tow, the newest sanctioned X-Man on the team. She'd just been made an official member last week.

"Ah, shut it Popsicle. You and Kit Kat over there ain't no better."

"Touchè." Bobby sighed contentedly as he sank into the couch. His girlfriend followed and nestled beside him. After being without PDA the whole time him and Rogue had dated, Bobby seemed eager to make up for it in spades with the young Kathryn Pryde. Not that the younger girl seemed to mind. She tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder and laid her head on Bobby's chest, her legs curled up on the sofa, mirroring an exact imitation of Ororo's position with Wolverine.

Several minutes later, the two couples were joined by Warren walking in with his girlfriend attached to his arm.

"Hello, Warren, Elizabeth," Ororo greeted the newcomers. She was surprised to see the beautiful, violet-haired, Asian woman at the mansion. The X-Men in general rarely saw the woman as she worked with an overseas division called S.T.R.I.K.E., which took her out of the country often. Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock was a gifted martial artist and fellow telepath like Jean, who had been in a relationship with the wealthy Warren Worthington for nearly a year now.

"'Hello, Ororo, Bobby, Kathryn, and of course Wolverine," the woman returned in a posh British accent.

"Ay, Bets." "Hello, Betsy," the group greeted simultaneously.

"What is this couple's night?" Angel asked no one in particular as he and Elizabeth took the love seat next to Kitty and Bobby.

Bobby shrugged. "I'm just lazin' watching TV."

"Per usual, right, Drake?" Worthington teased.

Bobby casually flipped him the bird and Warren laughed.

Nearly an hour later, the door to the mansion slammed opened, and everyone turned to see Rogue and Gambit just trailing in from a night out.

"Hi, everybody," Rogue waved, breezing in to the room. Gambit lingered in the hall.

"What're ya'll heathens up to?"

From the light in the southern woman's eyes and the enormous smile gracing her face, Ororo concluded the two must have had a nice time. Though, she shuddered to think of what that time together might've entailed, knowing Remy the way she did. Oddly, for some reason the prospect bothered her. She chalked it up to – for the first time – having to share Gambit with someone else. Unknown to all the others, even the X-Men she called family, there was a sense of ownership that lay between the two friends that Ororo figured would probably always exist between them. Escaping life or death situations while bonding over the mutual rush of adrenaline that came from successfully swiping a coveted prize had a way of creating unbreakable bonds. "Thick as thieves" as the saying goes.

"So," Kitty sidled next to Rogue and asked in a low tone, "how was your date?"

Rogue began to blush, leaning in close to Kathryn, replaying in her ear the details of her and Gambit's date. Ororo smiled at the two and turned around to inquire the same question of Gambit and found he wasn't there. Ororo frowned and turned back around.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

She got up off his lap, but turned back to look at him when she felt his hand gently tug at her wrist.

"Where ya goin', 'Ro?"

"I just need to see about something, quickly."

Logan's eyes shot over to where Gambit had been standing earlier and then back to Ororo.

"Ya mean yer goin' ta see about Gumbo," he said.

Ororo sighed lightly. "I'll only be a minute, Logan. I just want to know if everything went okay."

"Well from the way Marie and Kitty are chattering over there, I'd say it went good," he insisted, jerking his head in the two women's direction.

Ororo gave him a look. "Logan . . ."

"Fine then, 'Ro, just be quick about it."

Ororo nodded and excused herself from the room, feeling Logan's eyes on her back as she made her way up the stairs to Remy's bedroom. She knocked on the door and pressed her ear to its surface to listen for any sign he was there. Hearing nothing, she straightened back up and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, stumped on where to look next as the man could've been anywhere in the large mansion.

She thought about it a moment before guessing he might have gone out to the lake. Preparing to walk down to the small lake and see for certain, Ororo first jogged up to her bedroom to grab a pair of shoes for the short journey. She stepped inside her bedroom and opened the closet doors when she caught sight of her curtains fluttering in the breeze that blew in from her opened balcony doors.

Ororo let the shoes she held slip from her hands to the floor and closed the doors to her closet, walking over towards the balcony and stepping out on to it in her barefeet. She turned her head and caught a cigarette glowing against the dark of the night, the smelling of smoke slowly wafting towards her.

Her eyes clouded over, summoning a gentle gust to transport her over to the roof where Remy was sitting in the dark. She walked over to him as soon as her feet touched the cool tiles.

"_Bonjour_, _chère,_" he greeted her in his syrupy Cajun drawl.

"Remy. What are you doing out here alone?"

"Smokin'," he answered. He blew out a stream of smoke, then tapped a finger against his temple. "And t'inkin'."

Ororo crouched down next to him, drawing up her long legs. She brought her lengthy hair over her shoulders to keep from sitting on it.

"Well I can see you smoking," she frowned a little, waving a bit of the smoke away, "but I do not know what you're thinking about; care to share?" Ororo smiled softly, gently nudging him with one of her shoulders.

"Ain' nuttin' much t' talk 'bout, _chère_," he breathed heavily. Remy took another puff of his cigarette and blew it out. "Jus' t'ings on my mind. Don' feel like worryin' anybody wit' 'em."

"So you would worry me by not talking instead?"

Remy shrugged and inwardly Ororo sighed. She tried a different route. "Did you and Rogue have a nice time?"

"Hnh?"

"You and Rogue – did you both have a nice time?" she reiterated.

"Oh. _Oui_. Anna's a sassy gal. I t'ink she had a good time."

"And you?"

Remy nodded. "It was nice t' get out o' de mansion fo' a while. Still gettin' used t' actually stayin' somewhere permanently. Y' kno' roamin' is in Remy's blood, _chère_."

"I think you've done enough roaming, Remy," she told him, her voice firming unconsciously.

"_Non_ worries, _chèrie_. I ain' gone leave y', girl." He knowingly voiced her unspoken concern. "Remy told y' he wouldn' do dat again an' he meant it. Y' don' trust dis Cajun no more?"

"No, no, Remy, of course I do." Ororo waved offhandedly. "Never mind me. It's just . . . paranoia, I suppose.

For a long length of time, the two friends set on the mansion roof in contemplative silence. The night was pleasant outside, a refreshing ghost of a breeze blew periodically, rustling both dark and white hair and feeling good against their skin. Then out of the blue, Remy asked her:

"Wha' made y' start t' fall in love wit' de Wolverine, 'Roro?"

Her head turned sharply towards him and her mouth parted in surprise. "What!"

Remy plucked out another cigarette, lit it, and asked again. "Y' heard me, girl. I asked how y' came t' fall in love wit' Wolverine." He wouldn't meet her glare.

She stared at him several seconds longer and then gave a slow, thoughtful lift of her shoulders. "We are kindred spirits – Logan and I; we are alike in spirit."

Gambit figured he knew the why behind her statement (knowing Ororo as he did), but that didn't stop him from inquiring of her. "Wha' y' mean by dat, _chère_?"

"We're both a force of nature in a sense," she mused by way of explanation. "There's a wildness, untamed that flows through our veins. He is the Wolverine, and I am the Storm. There are differences, mind, but at our essence . . . there lies nature's fury. And it can be both a curse and a blessing."

"Dat de only reason?"

"You probably wouldn't want to hear the others."

Remy grimaced.

"Didn't think so."

Gambit sighed and rested his arms on his bent knees, burning cigarette still between his fingers, curling smoke drifting from its end.

His spirit was low, his heart felt increasingly heavy, and for a split second, he wondered if he should've came back. Yet, just as he was assailed by the small flicker of doubt brought on by regret and melancholia, Ororo made short work of the distance separating them and scooted behind him so that his body was trapped by her endless legs. "Come here," she told him, and pulled him towards her. He sighed again and did as he was told, leaning back and laying himself against her chest. Ororo brought her arms around and held him, her chin coming to rest on the silkiness of his dark hair. Remy swallowed with some difficulty, his dulled red/black eyes falling close as he heard her concerned voice breeze by his ear.

"What it is, beloved? What bothers you?"

He felt her slender fingers rustle gently through his long hair and his formerly moot tongue loosened in his relaxed state. "Jus' tired, _chère_."

"Hollow of heart?"

"_Oui_, y' could say dat."

"Why?" Her fingers stilled within his hair, awaiting his answer.

". . . I—regrets, _chère_. Ol' regrets."

"About things past, such as The Thieves' Guild?"

"_Non_."

The African woman released a soft breath through her nose. "We all have regrets, Remy, but that doesn't stop us from having a prosperous future if we so desire." She paused, and carried on candidly. "You know, the other day out by the lake, when we talked . . . I listened to you and I felt regret that I had not been able to be with you those six years – to have left with you."

Gambit leaned his head back and gazed up at her curiously. "Really?"

Ororo nodded down at him. "Mm-hm."

"Y' would've gone wit' me, _chère_?" he asked disbelievingly.

Ororo's ice blue stare was heavy and piercing, deciding once again to be candid with her closet friend. "Remy . . . I would've followed you anywhere . . . Did you not know that?"

His heart thudded deeply in his chest, so hard and so fast, he was surprised she couldn't hear it; the way she was looking at him didn't help. Her blue eyes in the surrounding dark glowed mystically, aided by the moonlight. She was so unfathomably beautiful it was hard to believe that she was anything more than a fanciful dream. But the feel of her around him certified her reality and sharpened his own. Everything about his life was heightened when Ororo was with him. He wondered if she did that for others? She probably did.

The suspended moment in time the two friends shared, there on top of the roof, seemed shrouded by a surreal-like haze. They stared and each respectively held the other in their sway. Gambit noticed the cotton feel inside his mouth and realized it was slightly open. He gulped and ran his tongue over his lips, moistening his mouth. Ororo's eyes seemed to dilate. For the first time in several lengthy seconds, Ororo blinked, and in turn was abruptly brought out of the fog.

Ororo gave Gambit a – vaguely uneasy – closed-mouth smile, but his own expression remained unchanged. Under his head, he could feel her heart rapidly beating in her chest.

"I'm going to head on inside," she said to him, waving back in the direction from whence she'd came. "I hadn't intended to stay out here so long."

She stood up without another word and Remy sat up to let her go, untangling himself from her, though not without some distant shred of disappointment. Ororo brushed off her pants and began to leave. She suddenly heard Gambit's voice behind her and she stopped and turned around when she heard him speak.

"Heard Scotty Boy and Jean arguin' out on de terrace when Anna an' I was 'bout t' come inside earlier," he told her. That was unexpected. Remy idly fiddled with the lighter now in his hand. "Didn' sound good, _chère_."

Ororo took a half-second to process what he'd told her. While she wasn't delighted by the news of Scott and Jean's troubles she couldn't say she was exactly surprised. It had been a long time coming.

"Scott is tired of the way she's been treating him; I know exactly how he feels. Jean has not been a good friend for a while now, and she's been an even worse fiancée. The people she's hurt are just now starting to let her know how awful she's been. If those two are arguing, Jean really is the one to blame."

"It sounded pretty bad, _chère_. She was yellin' at him 'bout some _femme_ named Emma, an' when she brought it up, Scotty went back inside an' slammed de door. She was still out dere cryin' when we went into de house."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Remy turned to her. "She needs you, _chère_."

Ororo stiffened then, her chin raising defiantly. "She didn't need me when she was skirting around with Logan." Her words came out cool.

"But Remy sees yo' fo'gave him." Gambit's look was discerning.

"Jean is my sister. She's practically blood," Ororo argued, suddenly mildly defensive. "The betrayal was worse on her end, and unlike Jean, Logan stepped up, admitted his mistakes, and decided to end the fling he had with her."

"So she never tried t' 'pologize t' you?"

"Remy—"

He threw up his hands. "All I'm sayin', _chère_, is dat yo' betta den dis. C'mon . . . my Stormy too noble and kind fo' dis kind o' bitterness. It ain' like y', _chère_. Don' let yo' anger get in de way o' makin' good wit' yo' friend and _soeur (*sister)_, _chèrie_."

He saw Ororo drop her head and went in for the kill. "I'm sure bein' wit'out y' dese last couple weeks has been hard on de _femme_." He paused and smirked at her charmingly. "Trust me, Remy kno' wha' it's like t' be wit'out yo' Stormy."

Ororo glanced over at him from beneath her long dark lashes and felt a slow, reticent grin begin to take over her face. Gambit winked at her, and no amount of resistance on her part could stop the wide, open-mouthed smile on her face.

"Scoundrel."

"Ah, true, _ma belle_. But y' love me fo' it anyway."

Ororo considered it a split-second and nodded resignedly. "You're right. I love you in spite of — in spite of anything, really. You can do no wrong in my eyes, Etienne."

His heart flip-flopped again. Her tone suggested she was surprised herself by her conclusion. He'd always cherished how she framed his middle name with that soft African-accented tone of hers.

She turned and resumed walking, tossing clearly over her shoulder: "You win, Cajun. I'll be sure to speak with her tomorrow. Don't be out late, Scott told me he wants to schedule a team danger room session in the morning – just a heads up. Goodnight, Remy."

New Orleans' own Prince of the Thieves' Guild watched her departure, catching the last of her pale hair just as she dropped back unto the balcony and inside her loft.

He rubbed his hands over his bristly face and sighed, mixed feelings churning tumultuously inside his gut. It was a long time after him and Ororo's conversation on the roof before he found his way to his own room, his heart and mind divided.

He thought it had gone away. Not dead – never completely dead, but dead enough so wouldn't feel this confliction. Nevertheless, it was alive and well, and furthermore, it was quickening – becoming stronger. As was his anxiety and longing.

Remy LeBeau was the victim of a theft . . . and Ororo Munroe was the thief.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Not especially plot moving, but very necessary. Any feedback would be appreciated. TBC next update.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

><p>When Scott first heard the sound of his door opening he'd immediately assumed it was Jean coming in to start another argument with him. A sharp rebuke had festered on his tongue. He opened his mouth to deliver it, when he saw Ororo standing there instead. The words died instantly.<p>

"Oh, um, Ororo? What—What can I do for you?"

"May I have a minute, Scott?"

"Sure," he said with a nod. He cleared his throat and gestured to an empty chair near his desk. "Have a seat."

"Thank you."

Ororo walked over and sat on the edge of the chair. Her gaze and expression was wary. Her fellow co-leader saw it and frowned.

"Is something wrong?"

Ororo's mouth opened, and then shut just as fast. The frown Scott wore deepened. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing is wrong, per se. I just…do not want you to get angry with me." Her eyes futilely searched his through the wall of ruby-quartz glasses. He silently studied her in turn for a moment, ruminating over the words. Then it came to him.

"This is about me and Jean," he guessed correctly.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, it is, Scott. I'm a bit concerned."

The oldest X-Man heaved a sigh, stretching back in his chair and running his hands over his clean-shaven jaw. "Why are you concerned, Storm? From what I understand you and she aren't on the greatest terms either."

"Something I plan to rectify as soon as I'm done here."

"Well, Ororo, this really isn't something you—"

"Before you begin to tell me to mind my own business just let me say. . . I was upset at Jean for the same reason you are now, and believe me, I'm not sitting here judging you. Jean hurt you. I know that, and I've told her as much. She hurt me too. She has been in the wrong, Scott, and there is no arguing that."

"So what is this then?"

"You still love her. And she loves you. I've been told she has been a wreck these last several days. Even the students have been speaking in hushed tones about it. She needs you," Ororo insisted.

Scott scoffed. "Maybe it's Logan she needs."

The white-haired woman shook her head. "No, she needs you. Jean loves you. I don't believe she ever truly loved Logan, nor he her. Not the way you do."

"Honestly, I don't know how Jean's been really. We haven't shared a room for several days . . ." he admitted, the tone of his voice growing concerned. He hadn't cared either, he'd been too pissed to care. Scott turned and gazed quietly out the window for a spell. After a long moment, he shook his head vigorously and in defiance.

"Damn it, Ororo, she hurt me, you know? I've done everything for Jean and as soon as Logan showed up she threw it all back in my face. She disregards me, and she sure as hell doesn't respect me. Do you know how many times I've had the opportunity to step out on Jean? How many times temptation has been put in my path and I've stayed faithful. But she had no problem flaunting f—king Wolverine right in front of my face!" He bit out the other man's name with contempt.

The resident weather goddess listened calmly to Scott's rant, not even surprised in the least by his uncharacteristic coarse language. The man was releasing months of pent-up frustration and Ororo didn't fault him for a second because she had felt the same way. Remy had made the difference with her. If it wasn't for him, she most likely wouldn't have been there now, acting as a mediator of sorts between the troubled couple. It still had taken her longer to come around than she'd initially planned. Remy had possessed the good wisdom to show her where was being stubborn. Maybe she could do the same for Scott? Secretly, she wondered if the "temptation" he had spoken of being thrown in his path was a certain platinum-haired headmistress, namely Emma Grace Frost.

Ororo regarded the reddened face of the man before her; eyed the tension in his body language, and even more than before she was compelled to do what she could.

"I bet it seemed like that Scott," she began quietly, "like Jean didn't care about you. But we both know that isn't true. She just didn't know how much you meant to her. I think the last couple of weeks have sobered her up. I bet you anything she's afraid she's losing you, and it's terrifying her. . . The question is: Is she?"

His brows furrowed, as he stared at her. "Is she what?"

"Losing you?"

"Ororo—" A pause. He sat back and glared.

Ororo cocked a brow at him.

"Well, no," he confessed, "no, she's not losing me. I just—damn it I—" He groaned with the aggravation of it all. "No, she isn't losing me. I love Jean. I'm just tired, Ororo."

"I know."

She reached across the desk and stretched out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, before offering her a small smile of resignation, and accepting the kind gesture. She held his larger hand in hers, running her thumb across the back of it comfortingly.

"Scott, you and Jean are two of my best friends. I'd hate to see an unfortunate situation like this one end your engagement. Or for anyone to come in between you both."

She let that statement hang in the air, not mentioning Emma directly, because she didn't want to appear as if she had been nosing around in his business, but Scott was a smart man; he would catch her meaning.

"Don't let bitterness keep you from working things out with her," she told him, repeating the same sentiments Remy had said to her days earlier.

Scott sighed, nodded slowly at her, and gave her a weak smile which she returned with a bright one of her own. "Good. That's all I want, Scott. I didn't want to appear nosey or anything; I just wanted to help if I could."

She released his hand and got up to leave when Scott's voice called out to her. "So, you've forgiven, Logan?"

Ororo stopped and faced him slowly. "Yes, I did," she answered, guardedly.

"Why? Is it because you love him too?"

She nodded her head. "Yes. I forgave him for the same reason I forgive Jean."

"And Remy, right?"

"What!" Ororo's eyes widened with surprise and Scott shrugged at her.

"I always knew you were hurt when LeBeau left the first time. Then your reaction that day in the War Room when he returned . . . it wasn't hard to put two and two together. But now, it looks like you and him are back to being Bonnie and Clyde again, so I figured you must've forgiven him. I was just wondering if it was because you love him."

Ororo's heart raced a bit, feeling tendrils of nervousness and anxiety creep up her spine. She prayed neither her voice nor expression betrayed her. "I do love, Remy. I always have; he's been my closet friend, so yes, that is the reason I forgave him."

Her friend and co-leader's expression was hard to read – then again it always was with his eyes hidden by those ruby glasses. But his mouth quirked sharply to the side as he gazed on at her, making her feel slightly exposed.

When she could endure it no longer she said, "I'll see you later, Scott. I hope everything goes well. Another DR session this afternoon, right?"

"Right."

"I'll see you then."

She waved shortly and immediately left to find Jean, leaving Scott alone in his room. The X-Man sat back in his chair, thinking over what Ororo had said. While he would talk with Jean, see how she was doing, and sort things out, he sure as hell wasn't about to forgive the Wolverine, he decided. Leave that to Ororo.

Wolverine.

Scott smirked to himself, he wondered what the foul-mouthed, bad-tempered Canadian would say if he knew his woman had feelings for LeBeau, to get a little taste of his own medicine. It would serve him right.

Scott's phone rang, breaking the silence in the room, and his contemplation. He glanced at the display and saw: **_Frost, Emma_** with the accompanying number following. His thumb hovered over the interface. He and Ororo's recent conversation came back to him.

He tossed the unanswered phone on his desk and let it ring until the call died.

* * *

><p>The salty scent of tears swimming in the air froze Logan dead in his tracks.<p>

The soft sounds of wet sniffles followed.

_Red_.

Inwardly, Logan groaned to himself. Mentally, he urged himself to continue walking, but it seemed cowardly. Still, he didn't know if he should, he'd just begun regaining Ororo's trust. He strode forward determinedly down the hall, his mind made up.

A swarm of rapid-fire images flooded his head.

_Moist green eyes. Red hair. Dress – a frilly dress. "Isn't it beautiful, James!" Smiling. Moist green eyes. Red hair._

Logan shook his head, rubbing his rough hands over his eyes. What in the flamin' hell? He heard again Jean's sniffles, and an overwhelming desire to check on her swept over him. His calloused knuckles rapped twice on her classroom door. Logan poked his head inside after opening it a crack.

"Jeannie?" he called out.

The telepath's head slowly rose up from where she had had it buried between her crossed arms. She straightened up from her hunch over the desk and stared blearily at the new intruder. Jean Grey's normally smooth cheeks were blotched and tear-stained, and her eyes seemed nearly as red as her hair (which hung in a messy ponytail, stray tendrils sticking out wildly every which way).

"Lo—Logan?"

He stepped all the way into the room and closed the door half-way. No need to give anyone the wrong idea. He perched him on the edge of a desk just a few feet away from Jean, one leg propped up on its surface, the other planted on the ground.

"Flamin' hell. Ya look like shit, Red," he told her.

Jean snorted. "Gee, thanks . . ." The woman sat back and began wiping at her eyes and face with her hands.

Suddenly, Logan realized that this was the first conversation he'd had with Jean since the day he'd told her it was finished between them that afternoon outside Ororo's loft. He hadn't even thought about her.

"What's wrong with ya, Red? Word is yer've been walkin' around like a zombie the last few days. And ya know when Jubes gets wind of somethin' the whole mansion'll hear of it."

Jean rolled bloodshot eyes. "Great. Just what I need."

It was quiet for a long moment and Logan just looked at her. The fraught woman stared down at her hands.

". . . I have no one . . . ," she muttered finally, so low and quiet only Logan would've been able to hear it properly.

"Why do ya say that, Red?"

"Because I've lost everyone. Scott, Ororo…you, even the team – I'm sure they hate me."

"That ain't true, darlin'."

"Isn't it? Scott will barely look at me!" she yelled. "He spends all his time on the phone with that Frost woman, and he won't even stay in the same room I'm in!"

Logan tried not to show his surprise after hearing of Scooter's behavior. Didn't sound much like the Boy Scout; had he really reached his breaking point? And who the hell was this 'Frost' woman? Logan felt a strange pang of guilt towards Scooter. He was just as much to blame for One Eye's anger as Jean.

"And you," she continued, "you haven't spoken to me in weeks."

He shrugged wide shoulders. "What didja want me say, darlin'? I told ya I was through with hurtin', 'Ro. And I promised her I was through too. I wasn't gonna take a chance of goin' back on either of those promises, Red."

"So you just shut me out?"

"Had to. It was best fer both of us. Wasn't easy at first, and I didn't intentionally mean ter hurt ya. I didn't know ya were feelin' like this."

Logan's ears perked up as he heard a slight sound coming from outside the classroom door. He listened carefully for a moment and sniffed. A tiny smirk flittered across his face and he turned back towards Jean, having identified the scent. Rain and sandalwood.

"And what about, 'Ro?" he prodded, knowing she was listening on the other side of the door," How do ya feel about her?"

Tears sprang to Jean's eyes and slowly ran down her cheeks. "I feel like I've lost my best friend…" she whispered sadly.

"What do ya mean by that?"

"It's just like Scott. She doesn't want to talk to me either. At least before, if I had an issue with Scott, Ororo was the one I could turn to. She's like my sister. When I was at my lowest, I could go to her. Now, I can't even do that," the redhead cried. "They even closed off the psychic links we all shared between us."

Jean sniffed, plucked out a few Kleenex, and blew her nose. "She told me to work on my relationship with Scott because as of then it was the only one that remained intact. She's never spoken that way to me before. I can't even explain how that crushed me. . . I'm just so sorry and miserable. I—I never wanted to hurt anyone! I know I did but, I never thought this would happen. . ."

Jean buried her face in her hands again and balled. Logan had to admit, it was a pitiful sight. Seeing her that way. He could hardly remain there to endure it. If it were 'Ro he'd be right there, pulling her into his arms. But it wasn't. It wasn't his place – had never been. It was Scooter's.

He swung his head back towards the partially opened door and saw the white-haired weather mistress loitering outside it. Her blue eyes were sad, regretful, and sympathetic as she looked on at Jean from through the door.

"Ororo still cares about ya, darlin'. And the Boy Scout does too. I'm sure of it."

"I miss them, Logan…"

"And they miss you, Red. It was never worth it was it?"

"No," Jean remarked, tearfully, "it wasn't."

The Canadian caught Ororo's eye and gestured her inside with a small jerk of his head. She hesitantly pushed the door open wider and allowed herself in, letting the door make a noise as it closed to alert the other woman of her presence.

When she heard the noise, Jean's glassy eyes snapped towards the door. She gasped. Ororo smiled at her, weakly, tentatively.

The redhead's mouth fell open. She blinked at Ororo. Silence stretched.

Dark hazel eyes looked between the two women.

"O-Ororo?" Jean stammered.

She stepped forward. "Jean, I wish to speak with you."

Emerald eyes grew large. "You do?"

"Yes. There is much I would like to discuss."

The Canadian took that as his cue to let the two ladies resolve this alone. He stood on his feet and leaned down towards Ro, his hand on her shoulder. "I'ma leave you ladies to it. Come find me when yer through."

Ororo nodded. He took her lips hard but fast before leaving. He heard them begin to speak just as he shut the door on their conversation, though he could still hear them. But he had other matters to contend to rather than eavesdropping on the two friends.

Outside the room, Logan leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. "Shit," he cursed, wondering what the hell kind of episode he'd experienced prior, right before he'd walked into Jean's classroom. The images... the voice calling him James...

He had to speak with Charles.

Logan pushed off the wall and strode with purpose towards Charles office, feeling himself already drifting towards the edge. He craved a mind-clearing spin on his bike, but the compulsion to find Chuck was stronger. He hardly noticed the near empty halls. It was a weekend and all the older students, more than likely, were downtown getting into youthful mischief, while the younger kids meandered around the Rec Room or played outside.

Gambit was helping Rogue shrug into her jacket when they saw the Wolverine approaching. "Hi, Logan." Gambit said nothing. The other man stopped and gazed at the two of them. His glare narrowed slightly on the Cajun. "Where ya headed, kid?"

"Remy and Ah are goin' ta Harry's," she expressed delightfully. "You and Storm wanna join us?"

Logan glared at Gambit a moment longer then shook his head. "No. 'Ro's talkin' with Jeannie, and I gotta take somethings up with Chuck."

"Oh." Rogue's grin faded and turned into a look of concern. "Is everythang alright, Logan?"

He cut the taller man behind Rogue a look, which Remy returned. Logan sneered. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

Gambit and Rogue watched him as he continued down the hall.

"Wonder what's got him riled? Look like somebody killed his puppy."

Remy didn't much care, as long as Stormy was alright. She was off somewhere in the mansion talking to Jean, working things out like she'd promised him. _Dat's my girl_, Remy thought before leaving with Marie.

Before Logan knocked on the door the Professor's telepathic voice was beckoning him inside, a common little trick of Xavier's. Logan swung the door open and marched up to Xavier's desk. "Something happened. I need yer help." So much for any pleasantries.

The bald, older gentleman lifted his eyes from the opened manila folder on his desk and settled them on Logan. He nodded shortly, taking up his now tepid tea. "All right, what happened?" he began in that serene tone of his.

"Are ya gonna be able ter help me?" Logan gritted.

"I do not know. Perhaps, you can start by telling me what happened. Please, have a seat Logan."

He quickly did as told. Charles maneuvered his chair around the desk. "Now," he requested, "tell me what happened."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Bit o' filler. TBC.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"How'd it go wit' de Redhead?"<p>

"Jean."

"_Oui_, Jean."

Ororo grinned at the pleasantly clueless man across from her. She shook her head at him, and shrugged. "It basically went the same way it did with Logan. It's going to take time to rebuild back the trust we had before all this."

"Did she 'pologize t' ya?"

Ororo hummed around her mouthful of salad. "She did. Said she was sorry, regretted hurting me, Scott, the team."

"Do ya believe her?"

"I believe her."

"So, what—? Ya'll cried and got all emotional and made up?"

"Hardly," she responded, rolling her eyes.

It was Ororo's lunch hour and she was sharing it with Remy out on one of the mansion terraces, built just outside of the cafeteria. It was an early spring day, the sun shone overhead and a soft, mild breeze blew in intermittently, perfectly ideal for a lunch outside.

Remy had prodded her about the details of her and Jean's discussion days earlier and she'd obliged him with a concise account of it.

Not unlike she had with Logan, during the course of their mutual come-together, Ororo had expressed to Jean that time – and work – would be involved in repairing the friendship and trust that had suffered as a result of she and Logan's behavior. The original question of why Jean had participated in the hurtful scenario to begin with had made Ororo burn with the need to know, and that afternoon, sitting across from each other, the only ones in an empty classroom, Ororo had asked.

A look of shame swept over Jean's face at first. Her head dropped, her gaze lowered, and it for several seconds almost seemed she would not answer. After what felt like an eternity, her quiet voice began to rise above the tense silence.

Jean had been honestly attracted to Logan, this she'd reluctantly explained to Ororo. He was handsome and dangerous and edgy. He'd flirted with her and she'd liked the attention. The instant attraction between her and Logan had blinded her to anything outside of themselves, including friends and teammates. Thoughts of how she was hurting Scott, Ororo, or the team would cause a prick of guilt, but it never lingered long in the face of their day-to-day 'affair'.

But that faithful day when Logan had finally ended it, and ended it for good, everything had come rushing back into stark view. With suddenly clear eyes, no longer veiled by lust and her own self-interest, Jean Grey recognized the pitiful states of her two closest relationships – how deteriorated they had become in light of she and Logan's actions.

When Scott words had become snappish, his tone hard, and his demeanor resistant, her folly had been made all too clear. Compounded by the distance Ororo had instituted in their sister-like friendship, and the last couple of weeks for Jean Elaine Grey had seemed liked hell. All her mistakes were glaring cruelly back at her.

She never wanted to repeat something like it again.

"Did y' 'pologize t' her?" asked Remy, having heard the tale.

"For being stubborn," Ororo said. "And for not giving her the courtesy I gave Logan, at first."

"Den everyt'ings _bien_?"

Ororo sat back in the chair and sighed softly. "It is getting there." Allowing a quick, hopeful smile. "It will eventually."

"I'm proud o' you, _chère_," he grinned fondly. "_Très bien_, _ma belle_."

"I have you to thank. It was because of you. I'm not sure I would've forgiven her otherwise, at least not so soon."

"Remy kno' what it's like t' need fo'giveness, girl."

"We all do," Ororo said. "Thank you for showing me that."

"Yo' welcome, girl. Anyt'ing fo' my Stormy." She rolled her eyes again, this time at the man's incessant, nuisance of a nickname for her.

Ororo continued delving into her salad while Remy puffed on a cigarette, a sweating can of soda in front of him. "Ay, where's yo' Mountain Man?" he suddenly asked out of the blue, glancing around exaggeratedly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Didn' kno' he eva let y' outta his sight."

"Very funny."

Remy smirked.

"Logan is with Charles."

"Again?" Both of Remy's eyebrows rose.

"What do you mean again?"

"De same day y' an' Jean had yo' talk, me an' Rogue was headin' out and he mentioned he was on his way t' speak wit' de Prof den," he answered, slouching casually in his chair.

"Oh." Ororo paused, processing the new information. Logan hadn't said anything.

"Dis a normal t'ing?" Remy asked.

"Yes and no," Ororo replied. "We brought Wolverine here after another mutant had attacked him, up north near Alberta, Canada. Anna was with him at the time and was brought back as well. That is how they both came to be at the mansion."

"Ah-ha."

"Logan has an adamantium skeleton. The substance is a metal—it's indestructible and covers every inch of his bones."

"Ouch."

"We know a group of government scientists were responsible for it, but Logan, himself, doesn't remember his whole past, just bits and pieces of it. He only survived the procedure because of his regenerative abilities which are nothing short of vast and incredible. After his arrival the Professor agreed to help him as best he could to telepathically unearth his memories and in turn, find out more – about the surgery, his past, everything. But the attempts haven't been very fruitful."

"Hnh," Remy grunted thoughtfully. "_Mon_ _Dieu_. Sounds crazy, _chère_."

"It's difficult for him, but if anyone can help him it's Professor Xavier."

Remy wanted to offer plights of sympathy on the other man's behalf, but couldn't quite find it within himself to. The man had a sad story; Remy could sympathize, having a rather dark past himself. He knew about that all too well. But this was still the _couillon_ who had weaseled his way into his Stormy's heart and taken up **his** role and responsibility of caring for her. That had been his vow, made those early days in New Orleans when she was still his and no one else's. Personally, he felt her 'man', had done a piss poor job, if he did say so himself—sniffing after Summers' girl and all, who also happened to be Ororo's friend. Just thinking about it began to piss Remy off.

"Where did you and Rogue go that night?"

"Hm?" Remy muttered, distracted by his own musings. "Sorry, say again, _chère_."

"I said: where did you and Rogue go that night?"

"Harry's," he told her.

"Did you have fun?"

"_Oui_. Anna's fun t' hang around. She's sassy, she's beautiful. What's not t' like, eh? Y' kno' Remy, _chère_."

"I do, too well. I'm—I'm glad you both had fun."

She offered him a tiny smile and picked through the rest of the half-finished salad with her fork and little interest.

Why did it take such effort to say that? Ororo wondered. Why wasn't she happier about the news? Gambit was adjusting well with the team, had made friends with the other guys on the team—Warren and Bobby. So he was spending time with Anna. He couldn't help the fact that he was gorgeous and charming and kryptonite to the ladies. Anna had taken notice just like any other woman, and obviously the southerner had a thing for him—not surprisingly.

Gambit had always enjoyed the company of beautiful women, and Rogue was beautiful so all in all, it seemed natural and inevitable that they would be attracted to each other. But Ororo would be lying if she said she was enthusiastic about it. Nothing against Rogue, but Remy was hers in a way that only she and Remy, as close friends, could ever understand. Selfish would be the last thing anyone who knew Ororo would call her, but a small part deep inside of her didn't want to share him.

What if it grew serious between Rogue and Remy? What if they began a real relationship?

The once previously gentle breeze whipped by sharply at its mistress' troubled thoughts. The unscrewed bottle of water she'd had on the table fell over with the strong gust, spilling some of the water onto the surface and running over. Gambit's brow rose curiously at her. She set the bottle back upright.

Ororo's reaction to her thoughts of Rogue and Gambit shamed her and her mood greatly soured because of it.

"I'm—I have to get ready to go back to class," she said quietly. Without waiting for a reply, Ororo rose from her seat with her salad carton and water. She walked inside and tossed the unfinished salad in the garbage before heading out the cafeteria. Normally, she hated wasting food, but at the moment she couldn't find it to care.

"Stormy! _Chère_!"

Gambit called after her, his expression confused, bewildered. When she didn't make a move to turn around, Remy hopped up from his seat and dashed after her. He caught her striding down the hall with quick, brisk steps. Remy ran up behind her and gently grabbed her by the arm.

"_Chère_, what's wrong, Stormy?"

"Do not call me, Stormy," she said, undernoted by exasperation and annoyance.

"Why y' jus' get up an' leave like dat?"

"I have to get back to class, I told you that."

"Yo' upset."

"Remy, if you're going to ask me what's wrong only for me to tell you and you assume I'm lying, why ask me in the first place?"

"'Cuz I kno' y', 'Roro. I kno' when somet'ings botherin' you."

"I'm fine, but I do, however, need to get to my class," she insisted.

Ororo met eyes his eyes unflinchingly. Remy knew better but nodded anyway. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, wha'ever y' say, _chère_."

Satisfied, Ororo repeated, "I have to go."

"'Wait, 'Roro."

She spun back around and looked at him. He came towards her. "How 'bout—Let's go somewhere after yo' class is over."

"Where?" she frowned.

"I dunno." Remy shrugged a shoulder, smiling. "Anywhere y' wan' t'. We could go get somet'ing t' eat, have some fun, Remy'll even buy y' somet'ing nice, whatever y' wan', girl."

Ororo's face broke out into a small, reluctant little smile despite herself. "Really?"

"_Oui_," he laughed. "Y' wan' to?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words never came. Her mouth fell closed and the smile began to fade.

"Wha' is it?" Gambit frowned.

She shook her head. "I just realized I can't. Not this evening."

"What? Why?" he demanded.

"I forgot. I'll be out with Logan. We had plans." Remy rolled his eyes and turned from her with a harsh scoff.

"I'm sorry," she tried, coming up behind him. "How about tomorrow? We could go tomorrow if you like."

"_Non_, I don' like, _chère_," Remy spat, spinning back around and wearing a deep scowl. His eyes flashed angrily. "So tell me, _chèrie_, does Remy have t' make a 'pointment t' be able t' spend some time wit' ya now?"

"I told you we could go somewhere tomorrow; it's just one day."

"Yeah, o' y' puttin' me off, _chère_. Yo' never woulda done dat t' me before."

"What like before you left me?"

"I t'ought we'd been t'rough dis already. Stop bringin' up ol' shit t' use against me, 'Roro. Y' can't bring up t'ings y' said y' fo'gave me for den bring dem back up whenever yo' mad at me."

"Then don't bring up what I supposedly would've done 'before', Remy, because a lot has changed since that time. It's not like you even need me anymore. I'm sure you could find Rogue and just take her wherever instead!"

"What does Rogue have t' do wit' anyt'ing, _chère_?" he argued.

"Why don't you just take her instead of me? You and she are obviously very good friends now."

"Sorry. I don' replace friends as easily as y' do, _chère_."

Ororo stared at him, surprised and left dumbfounded by the accusation. Is that what he thought?

Ororo's anger began to dissipate and she stared at him with concern and truthfully, a bit of hurt. She could never replace him. She wouldn't want to. Ever.

"Remy—"

"_Non_, don' worry 'bout it 'Ro. Y' shoulda been in yo' class a while ago. Have fun on yo' date," he waved dismissively. The Cajun shook his head at her, his voice and expression echoing disappointment and something like rejection before walking off in the opposite direction.

When Ororo got to her classroom, the students had already returned from lunch, and Jubilee and a student by the name of St. John Allerdyce were throwing paper planes at each other, while other th students laughed on. Ororo commanded their attention by loudly clearing her throat. The commotion stopped immediately. She directed them to their history textbooks and began the lesson, her mind as far removed from it as most of the children pretending to listen.

Remy. Why did he always underestimate how much he was worth to her? He'd never been able to see how much affection she held for him, and it appeared he still didn't. It was imperative to make him see. But how much of her feelings could she reveal without exposing her past secret completely?

**— o —**

"Remember when I told you that day in Cerebro about the mind needing to discover things out for itself?" the Professor said.

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I do believe that's what it's doing, Logan. What you've been experiencing are fragments of memory coming to the forefront, perhaps by a trigger of some kind."

"Like what?"

"I am not certain; it could be a number of things," answered Charles.

Logan pushed out of his chair and paced the floor in Charles' office. "That doesn't help none, Chuck."

"Just keep letting it unravel, Logan. We'll go from there. If you see anything useful, I'll scan your mind for myself and dig up anything we can that would lead to more information for you. We've been through this."

"Dammit! I know that, but it's makin' me flamin' anxious. The memories of the doctors, the claws, the needles . . . that's the shit I'm used ta, but the one with the girl 'n the dress . . . it actually means maybe I had somethin' good, yer know? Not just the pain 'n chaos." The Canadian fell silent with introspection.

"Logan, I understand where you're coming from, truly, I do. However, you also need to focus your mind on the present. You have wonderful experiences now—ones that aren't shrouded and hidden from you. They are out in the open for you to enjoy and appreciate here and now. The respect of your teammates, the students, the love of a magnificent woman . . . I urge you, do not fail to appreciate these things while you search in your quest for answers."

Wise old man. Logan stopped pacing and grudgingly nodded his head, eyes closed, jaw clenching. The Professor was right.

"Good," Charles smiled kindly. "Come to me if it happens again."

The first round of Psychics students were waiting behind the door when Logan opened it. The kids filed in and afterwards, Logan took his leave.

* * *

><p>The mansion was quiet later that evening.<p>

The students were in bed by curfew. Warren, Bobby, and Remy were down in the lower levels, sparring in the Danger Room, and Wolverine and Storm had left together over an hour ago.

When Jean entered her and Scott's room this time, Scott didn't get up and leave. Instead, he looked up from the schematic blueprints he was studying in his hand and grinned softly.

He was dressed in his pajamas.

He was going to share a room with her tonight.

The thought made Jean smile warmly back.

"Hi, Scott."

"Evening, Jean."

The two stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Jean nervously shifted on her feet, her gaze touching everything in the room, besides Scott. She was scared to look into his face and see the anger she'd become familiar with – and rightfully deserved if she were honest.

"Jean—"

Afraid he'd changed his mind – that she would hear something she didn't want to – Jean spilled in a rush, "Scott, I'm sorry."

He started a little. "What?" His brow knotted.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes imploring him to see her sincerity. "I know that's so less than you deserve after what I've done, but I mean it. I promise I do."

The usually stern man sat on the edge of their bed, leaning on his knees, staring down at his hands, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I'm sorry too," he said, "for my attitude the last few days. Ororo was right," he glanced up and down at her, "you don't look so good."

"Ororo?"

"Yeah, she came to me. I think she was worried."

"She came to me too."

"I knew she would." Scott smiled a bit, "That's Ororo for you."

"True." Jean laughed softly. He joined in the soft laughter, and it surprised her. It gave her courage.

"I'm . . . I'm glad she did though. I've missed you, Scott; I've missed the both of you."

Scott sobered and nodded. "You know, Ororo said something to me the other day when we talked that intrigued me. She said she didn't believe you ever really loved Logan – not like you do me . . ." Scott paused, glanced up at her. "Is she right, Jean? Or is she mistaken?"

"No," she said firmly, immediately rushing to Scott's side. "No, she's not mistaken. I love you, Scott. I swear," she said. Jean grabbed his hand and cradled it in her lap.

"Then what was it with Logan?"

"It was an attraction, that's all. Just a strong attraction. I don't love him, I never did. I love you. I was attracted to him and acted foolishly. I—I didn't think; I wasn't thinking. I hurt you and Ororo and I'm sorry. Logan doesn't even love me, he loves Ororo. And I love you. Don't leave me for Emma," she rambled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—Jean," Scott held up a hand, "I'm not leaving you for Emma."

Jean's eyes began to get misty. Her chest heaved in relief. "Oh, God, Scott I was so afraid."

"That I was going to leave you for Emma?"

"Yes."

"And that scared you?"

"More than anything."

The confession surprised him, made him feel a hint of manly pride. Scott fought not to smile. Truth was he'd considered it. Emma was a blonde bombshell and had made her interest in him all too clear. But it'd no serve no purpose in telling Jean that.

"So, can we start over? Scott, can we **please** start over?" She didn't care if she was pleading – begging.

Scott exhaled and nodded slowly, his lips forming another soft grin. He reassuringly squeezed his fiancee's hand, still wrapped up in his. "Yeah. We can start over."

"I love you, Scott."

"I love you too, Jean."

**x x x**

"It ain't that I didn't want ta tell ya, 'Ro. I just didn't want ta worry ya." Logan turned towards her, tapping the ashes from his stogie unto the ground.

His bike was parked several yards away while they sat under a bench canopied by the leaves and branches of a large tree.

"What are you seeing when you have these flashbacks?"

"Eh, same ol' stuff. The newest one seems ta be from childhood," he said vaguely. "Just . . . bothers me."

Ororo stared out at the pond thoughtfully. Her troubles with Gambit earlier put on hold in the face of Logan's dilemma.

"What are you going to do, Logan?"

He sighed. "Nothin' I can do, 'Ro. Gotta wait – like I have been. At least that what Charles says. I dunno." He shook his head, exhaling the smoke. Ororo reached out and brushed her fingers through the wild, dark mass of hair.

"You shouldn't let these things trouble you, love," Ororo whispered. He grabbed her hand and held it. "Don't worry about me, darlin'."

He snuffed the stub of cigar under his foot. He wrapped his arms around Ororo and pulled her unto his lap, his lips quickly finding hers.

"I mean it," she intoned against his mouth. "I love you. People respect you . . . even though they fear you too," she grinned wryly. Logan grunted.

"I hope that means something to you."

"It does, darlin'. More 'n anything." Logan stared at her, his hands previously on her back, roaming under her shirt. Ororo sighed at the touch.

"Good."

His hands passed over and gripped a breast, now becoming increasingly sensitive. "So good," she murmured. Hearing her longing tone, Logan scooped her up and carried her over to the grass, carefully laying her down. He peeled off his leather jacket, tossing it. Urgently helping her out of her own top, privacy afforded by the secluded spot they were nestled in, shielded with the help of the trees and the lateness of the hour.

When he was with her, like this, the dreams, memories, whatever they were, didn't seem to matter. He forgot completely. "Love ya, 'Ro." She ran her hands down his bare back, the rippling mass of muscle.

He groaned deep in his throat at the first stroke.

The night around them filled with the sounds of their coupling.

**x x x **

Remy stayed up until he heard the sound of the Wolverine's motorcycle returning.

He watched from his perch on the roof top, cigarette between his fingers. Eyeing bitterly, Logan run his hands through Ororo's – oddly mussed – white hair, his hands cupping her head and bringing her in for a kiss that made Gambit want to vomit. Ororo whispered something to Logan, and the man chuckled gruffly.

Gambit ground his teeth. His eyes burning just like the cigarette in the dark.

Logan left her to put the bike in the garage and came back, throwing an arm around her and walking inside. Before they entered, his sharp eyes shot up towards the roof, meeting Gambit's in the dark. The Canadian smirked knowingly before him and Ororo disappeared from view.

Gambit choked back the bile that rose in his throat, tried to ignore the dull pain in chest.

She didn't even know he'd sat up waiting for her. His Stormy.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: My appreciation to those who've read/reviewed/alerted this story. Please excuse any errors. TBC.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Gee, Mr. Logan, are you trying to take my arm off?" Artie Maddicks griped. The boy protectively clutched at his jarred right arm.<p>

Logan chuckled and waved in apology. "Sorry kid. Ya gotta learn ter toughen up."

Dr. Reyes laughed from where she stood near the sidelines but still tsked at Logan. The New York City born, Puerto Rican woman planted her hands on either of her hips and glared at Logan with mock gravity. "Mind your strength, Logan," she said, her Bronx accent marked with Spanish inflection. "I don't want to have to bind the boy's arm up on his birthday, _entiende?_"

"I gotcha, I gotcha; don't get yer panties in a twist."

He resumed tossing the pigskin ball into the hands of the boy waiting on the far side of the lawn.

Ororo Munroe stood watch over the colorful scene in reflective approval. It was satisfying to see the students in this manner instead rather than slouched over their desks exhibiting dazed expressions on their faces. Nearly all the students were out on the expansive sward – green and manicured – either playing games, or stuffing their faces over at the picnic tables that had been set with small mountains of food.

It was a weekend, and coincidentally Artie Maddicks' thirteenth birthday.

As a result of an unstable home life before arriving at the Institute, young Artie had revealed in a candid conversation with his instructors that he had yet to ever celebrate a birthday with friends and family during his youth. Realizing the soon approach of his birthday, the adults collectively came together and decided to throw the poor boy a birthday party, commemorating his first year as a young teenager. With a little help from Ororo, the afternoon sky was cloudless, and the breeze glided gently by.

Ororo smiled at the two of them, laughing quietly when Logan threw the ball way out of the boy's reach and Artie would have to sprint vigorously after it.

Scott lingered over by the gas grill and Jean was hanging on his arm, both wearing content expressions. Scott helped man the grill and Jean seemed to help man Scott. She held the platter while he piled the burgers and hot dogs on top of it, gave him the metal tongs when he needed it, and fetched him a drink when it got a little hot for him so near to the grill. Things were going better for the couple, and good ole Scott was being treated like a king. Incidentally, things were going better for Jean and Ororo as well. She and the redhead had even shared a coffee break together yesterday morning amid polite conversation. The only one things weren't going so well with was the Cajun.

"You alright, Ro?"

Ororo turned at the sound of Logan's voice. He stared curiously at her, his large hands wrapped around the ball. "Ya were just zonin' out there fer a moment, are ya okay?"

"Mm-hm, I'm fine – just thinking, that's all."

The sound of the students running, laughing, and screaming could be heard in the background.

"Yer sure that's all?"

"That and you look great in those jeans."

Logan smiled wolfishly. "Careful, darlin'.

He winked at her and began tossing the ball again. She laughed and continued watching the game of catch between them, but Ororo's thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. She hadn't spoken to him in three days, and only saw him enough to catch an elusive glimpse. Since the entire time Ororo had known him, she could count on one hand the number of serious disagreements between them – the biggest being when he had first returned to the mansion after leaving.

A part of her felt like it had been dead those six years he was gone, and when they'd had their reunion, it felt as if that part had been made alive again. They'd been doing so well since then, almost like he hadn't left at all. Another argument between them was the last thing she wanted. Ororo was avoiding the inevitable discussion between them simply because she was scared to reveal too much. Yet, she never was the type to be a victim of her fears for long. Not with her claustrophobia, not when she had first reckoned joining the X-Men, and not even with the slightest chance she could lose her closet friend again.

He and she were so deeply linked just the notion of enduring another potential schism filled Ororo with urgency. It wasn't until her musing had ended that she realized her heart was hammering in her chest and tendrils of dread were anxiously creeping up her spine at her contemplating the possibility of Gambit leaving once more.

She couldn't lose him again.

Ororo shot to her feet, casting one last glance around at the joyous commotion before sprinting towards the mansion, her hair flying behind her. She barreled inside and began taking the steps on the winding staircase two at a time. When she reached Remy's room her chest was heaving slightly, and she stood outside the door praying silently he was in there and knocked twice.

She held her breath, anxiously. _Please still be here, please still be here. _

The knob twisted and the door swung open, revealing Remy, barefooted, and clad in only a pair of black sweatpants. She let out a deep sigh of relief. She glanced back up and her breath caught again when she really got a look at him. She honestly fought no to ogle the man, but damn it he was beautiful. Lean and muscular, not an extra ounce of body fat on him. Tall and sleek, his long dark hair loose and falling around his shoulders. It'd been a long time since she'd seen him this way, and it looked as if the man had only gotten more handsome. He nearly stole her breath completely.

"_Chère_?"

Her eyes lifted from his chest. She noticed he smirked slightly and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She'd been caught ogling anyway.

Remy's heart leapt, seeing her on the threshold of his bedroom door, staring at him as if he were the last man on earth. Or a piece of meat. Pride and a tiny bit of hope washed over him, the look in her eyes warmed his entire body down to the soles of his feet.

"I came to apologize, Remy," she said at length. "And I also wanted to talk to you. Do you mind?"

Remy stared at her a second more and nodded. He stepped aside, letting her in and closed the door behind her. Ororo smiled gratefully and glanced around the bedroom. This was the first time she'd actually seen it since his arrival. The inside was clean, but sparse, and minimally decorated. But Remy LeBeau had always been a simple man, the lack of décor and personal possessions didn't surprise her. Playing cards lay strategically on a small table in the corner of the room, and a chair was pulled out, looking as if he'd been playing right before she came in. A pack of cigarettes and a short, half-empty glass filled with brown liquid sat beside the cards.

"You didn't want to join the festivities outside?"

"_Non_, not me, _chère_. Maybe some udder time. I'll be sure t' tell de _*garçon (* boy)_ happy birthday though."

Gambit walked ahead of her and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning his weight on his knees. "Y' know, y' ain't got t' 'pologize t' me, Roro," he started. "Remy ain't mad at ya if dat's what yo' figurin'."

"You sure about that?" she said.

"_Oui_," he responded.

"Then why haven't you been speaking to me? Why have you been hiding away? Avoiding me?"

"What? Y' been missin' me, _chère_?"

"Yes," she confessed, without a moment's hesitation. The humorous half-smile he wore grew serious as he stared ahead at her. Her own expression was so serious and meaningful his heart sped up some. Remy swallowed and patted the empty space next to him. "C'mere, _belle_."

She went to his side and sat. He didn't speak for a long moment and neither did she. Finally mustering up the courage, she plowed ahead with what she had intended to tell him.

"Remy, I am sorry for the other day. I didn't mean to sound so bitter. I could never replace you, Remy, and I never want to. I don't know if you know it, but those six years you were gone felt like something was missing inside of me. I'm sorry if I've made you feel you aren't important to me, Remy, because you are. Words cannot explain just how much. I won't lose you again."

She brought her hand up and stroked the side of his face, feeling the slight stubble. "I was so afraid that maybe you had decided to leave again. The thought that you might struck me so hard just now and I ran up here praying you hadn't left again."

"I ain't gon' leave y', _chère_. Neva again. I told y' dat."

"I was worried anyway. I need you with me."

Remy's eyes closed, and he exhaled a sigh so deep it sounded as if it had come from his very soul. When he opened them again, Ororo saw how they suddenly seemed to glow brighter. They bore into her and her pulse skipped. She let her hand drop and Remy caught it, capturing it tightly. "It ain't y', _chère_. It's me. Y' don' kno' what it means t' me t' hear y' say dem words, _belle_."

"It's true," she told him.

"It's jus' hard fo' Remy, _chère_. I need t' y' too, and dat's jus' it. Y' used t' be mine. Now yo' not and I ain't got used t' it yet. Someone else havin' my Stormy—"

His voice broke off and he turned his face from her. Not wanting her to see his jealousy, his frustration at himself, his anger at the other man for taking her away.

"Remy," Ororo squeezed his hand, her voice soft but firm, "you haven't lost me. Just because I love Logan doesn't mean I'm not still your friend."

Remy winced.

"I'm still here; I'm still your Stormy." Ororo's voice got watery then and she gulped, swallowing back her fear and trepidation. She wanted to be clear and transparent with him, but it was hard and she was scared of leaving herself open. Would he see her differently? She'd never told him, had kept it in for so long. But in the face of his obvious turmoil and doubt, Ororo decided she had to be honest. He deserved that.

"Remy," Ororo placed her hand on his shoulder. "Remy, look at me. Please."

She placed her other hand on the side of his face and gently tugged it in her direction. Gambit met her sparkling blue eyes hesitantly. When they were eye to eye, his heart nearly stopped.

She was unbelievably beautiful. Her flawless toffee skin, the wide, slightly slanted tourmaline blue eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes that shone out with uncharacteristic vulnerability. Her full, wide lips, rosy and parted ever-so-slightly. It took every ounce of his inner strength not to take those lips. His mouth was nearly dry with wanting, craving the moistness of hers.

She was a goddess.

Gambit thought back to the other night. Seeing her kissing Wolverine in his mind's eye. Her hair mussed, wearing a lazy grin. Gambit was no fool. The thought of the Wolverine touching on Ororo, his hands on her, taunting him with that smug smirk. If he hadn't kept to himself these last two days he was sure violence would've occurred.

He came partially out of his trance when he heard Ororo's voice speaking to him.

"Did you know . . . did you know that I—all those years ago—"

She hesitated and Remy frowned. "Did I kno' what, _chère_?" he urged. "Y' can tell me."

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she looked away. Her eyes began to moist. She closed her eyes and whispered and the tear fell.

"That I loved you . . ."

At first he thought he'd heard wrong. The words had been so soft and quiet. So he croaked a tremulous "what?" and waited for confirmation that he was, indeed, hearing things.

"I said I was in love with you . . . after I'd returned to my adult form. I realized that I had fallen in love with you during that time we spent together. I never told you. I never told anyone . . ."

So he wasn't imagining it. Ororo Munroe, his Stormy, his _padnat_, had said she was in love with him. **Had been** in love with him. The concept gave Remy pause. He just stared at her, blinking dumbly, his mind struggling to grasp it, but his heart felt like it would burst for joy at the revelation. The combination of such varied, potent emotion nearly made him sick.

"Stormy," he choked, forcing his vocal chords to work. "Y' serious, _mon amie_? You—You really loved, Remy? As in—?"

Ororo's hair slipped down into her face as she hung her head and nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

Remy sprung from the bed and fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her by the arms and glaring at her wildly. His deep drawl was pleading and desperate. "Why didn't y' tell me, _chèrie_, why? Why couldn't y' tell me y' loved me befo' dis?"

"I was going to but you left! I would've at the right time. I had a crush on you as that lost, little girl. We joked about it playfully but never took it seriously. Then all of the sudden I was a woman with real womanly feelings and I actually loved you! I couldn't say anything at first because I was so scared. I was scared at the change. I didn't know how you'd take it. I was afraid you didn't reciprocate . . . then you suddenly leave without a word and—"

Ororo stopped, more tears slipping down her face.

Remy both watched and listened in horror. What the hell had he done? She had loved him? After all this time? Not as a brother, or friend, or partner, but really loved him?

"Y' shoulda told me, _chère_," he insisted, shaking her a bit. "_Mon Dieu_, _femme_, y' shoulda told me."

"I'm telling you now. Why do you think I was so devastated when I found you had gone? Simply because a friend had left?"

Remy didn't have an answer. He stared, clinging to her every word.

"Of course that wasn't all. It was because the person I had just realized I loved more than anything had left me without a trace and took my heart with him." She wiped at a small tear that was forming.

"I never felt I truly got it back until that day you returned to me. So please, Remy, never, ever underestimate how deeply I care for you again. I mean it. Never."

Silence fell. Broken only by the sound of light sniffles.

"_Merde_," Remy cursed. _Why didn't y' tell me, ma coeur? Why?_

He threw his arms around her waist and squeezed, burying his head into her chest. He felt his eyes begin to burn, but he fought against it. He was breathing deeply, almost panting. Ororo stroked his hair, running her fingers up and down the hair on his nape. His eyes squeezed shut and his arms tightened around her. She could feel him trembling.

"It's okay, Remy. It's alright," she said softly, feeling the tension in his body, his back, his arms.

This new knowledge completely turned Remy LeBeau's world upside down. He'd never felt so stupid! Running away . . . To know she'd loved him . . .

Did that mean she didn't anymore?

She continued soothingly rubbing his back, looking down at his head, when she heard him mumbling something into her blouse. She stroked his silky hair, her brow crinkled. "What did you say, Remy?"

He brought his head up, his eyes searching her face desperately. "I said do y' still love me, Roro?"

Her body froze; her hand on his back came to rest on his shoulder. Gambit felt her body go frozen, her heart skip in her chest. He lifted his head, gazing warily up at her face. If he learned she had feelings for him now – that she loved him still – then nothing could keep him from her, nothing. The Wolverine be damned.

"Remy, my friend," he began reticently. "I love Logan."

"_Non_, _chère_," he shook his head. "Dere's mo' t' it den dat. Dere has t' be."

"No, Remy. That was—"

"How could y' fall out o' love wit' someone jus' like dat? Dat easily?"

"Six years ago, Remy. Six years!"

"Yo' lyin'," he yelled, jumping to his feet. "Don' lie t' me, girl!"

Ororo stared at him in shock. Mouth agape, eyes wide, heart pounding.

"Damn it," Remy hissed, rubbing his hands over his face. He raked his hands through his hair, struggling to stay calm, level-headed. He needed answers. It was confession time. Yes, he would put his feelings out there on the line, tell her all he had kept in for so long, but she was going to do the same.

"Listen, _chère_. Remy needs y' t' be honest wit' him. No mo' hidin . . . no mo' holdin' back secrets from me. Please."

"I am being honest, Remy. I told you, I love Log—"

"Den y' feel not'ing fo' me?"

"You're my closest, dearest friend – that's the way I love you."

"Six years. Six years. Y' mean t' tell me I lived miserably wit'out y' fo' six years when we could've been t'gether? When I coulda had you?"

Damn, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Someone else receiving the love he should have. Ororo stood to her feet and squinted at him. "What are you saying, Remy?"

He whirled around, catching her staring strangely at him. "What did you mean by that?"

He shook his head and laughed aloud in disbelief. "Y' really don't kno'?

"Should I?" she breathed, small, shaky.

Remy nodded, a slow spark glinting in his eye. Then, with deliberate pace, he began to approach her slowly, moving towards her like a panther. Ororo's heart was in her chest. She could vaguely hear the kids outside playing amidst the sound of her roaring pulse in her ears. A cloud passed over the sun outside, greying the sky, and throwing the room in a dim shadow.

He began closing the space between them and for the life of her she couldn't look away from him. To keep her heart from pounding. It was like she had no control, she was sure her eyes were wide with fear. The dark, intent look on his face and in his red/black eyes. When she backed up, he followed.

Her back hit the wall just as his chest brushed against hers. "Why y' so nervous, _chère_? I'm only yo' friend, right?"

"Right. Y-Yes."

"Hmm. . ." He pressed up against her body.

Again, Remy LeBeau was no fool. He could feel her heart thudding from her chest into his and her blue eyes looked sultry and half-lidded. It was an enticing sight but it also meant one thing.

She wanted him.

"Den let me kiss you."

"What!" she gasped. "No!"

"It's not like it would mean anyt'ing, _oui_?

"I-I can't," she stammered.

"Why not?"

She felt his hand slipping silently along her thigh, uncovered by the cotton shorts she wore.

"It isn't right."

"Jus' one. Jus' one t' prove y' don' want me. Dat y' don't love or feel anyt'ing fo' me."

"Remy—"

He dragged his mouth towards hers. "Jus' one."

**(((** _Storm. Gambit. Convene in the War Room please_. **)))**

The message echoed in their heads, making Ororo start. "_Merde_," Remy groaned.

She avoided his glare and slid out from under him. "The Professor wants us. We have to go. I'll let you put your clothes on." Her voice was crazy shaky and her eyes had darkened to a deep, royal blue.

He grabbed her by the wrist as she passed and vowed: "Dis ain't over, _chère_."

* * *

><p>The Professor, Wolverine, and Kathryn were already in the War Room when Ororo walked in. She stood next to Wolverine. He cast a curious look her way and laid a hand on her shoulder.<p>

"Where ya been, Ro? Ya just up 'n left the party."

"Oh, I was inside . . . talking."

"To who?" Logan frowned.

The door opened again and admitted Remy. His eyes cut over to Storm and Logan. A meaningful look passed between the two friends before he strode over towards the opposite side of the room and stood, now fully clothed and donning his signature leather duster.

The Professor spoke. "Now that Gambit's here I can begin briefing you all."

"Aren't the others coming?" That was from Kathryn.

"Only you four are going," said Professor Xavier. "It should be a simple mission and the others are still supervising over Artie's party and the rest of the students. I'll explain the details, then you all will suit up and head out."

"Okay, Chuck," Logan grunted. "So what is it?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The proverbial 'poo' hits the fan next chapter. Please don't hate me for it :-) I do have a purpose laid out for this story. Thank you greatly to the readers who've commented/reviewed :D

**To Be Continued **


	10. Chapter 10:  That Which Was Forgotten

_Forgotten • to cease or fail to remember; be unable to recall_

**Chapter Ten:  
>That Which Was Forgotten<br>**

* * *

><p>Ororo wasn't sure know how much more inner turmoil she could endure. She closed her eyes against the dull pressure behind her eyes born out of worry and anxiety.<p>

Lately, as it were, she got off of one emotional rollercoaster and right unto another, more crazy, one. If it wasn't Jean then it was Logan, and if it wasn't Jean and Logan it was Gambit. Now it was Wolverine, again, but this time . . . this time really caused her concern. Emotionally she was discombobulated – anxious and worried and filled with a certain dread. The sky outside looked as depressing as she felt inside, the dreary dark and grey of it. The foreboding feeling she had ever since that trip to the Friends of Humanity headquarters had remained and multiplied three-fold, settling bitterly in the pit of her stomach. The combination nearly made her sick.

Over a week had passed since the mission and she'd hardly spoken to Logan since. He spent all his time in sessions with the Professor when the older man wasn't teaching his Psychics Class and helping Laura adjust to her new surroundings. The young girl was making the mansion a home, at least until the unfortunate circumstances by which she'd come to them were sorted out and made clear.

Up in the dimness of her loft, Ororo miserably sat waiting for Logan. Again. Like she'd done nearly everyday.

He hadn't shared a bed with her since the day of Artie's birthday party – the day of the mission.

Logan made it so that whenever his business with Charles was over, he'd leave the mansion and remain gone the entirety of the day. Determinedly, she would sit up waiting for him until her tired eyes could no longer stay open and she fell asleep. When she awoke for class the following morning, he was already back and in a session with the Professor, and so the cycle went. Laura was questioned, Logan was unresponsive, and still she didn't know what to make of it all. Logan, the Professor, and Laura seemed to be privy to information no one else yet knew, but it all undoubtedly went back to their mission that afternoon.

**The Mission –  
>Flashback<strong>

"Okay, Chuck," Logan said, "so what is it?"

"The F.o.H."

"Again?" complained Kathryn.

"Hmph. I'm surprised," Ororo chimed. "We haven't heard from them in some time. Not a sound."

"True. They've been low on the radar up until the present. Now I know why."

"What's the reason then?" Kathryn shrugged.

"They aren't up to their normal tactics this time. They've been abducting mutants under the radar and selling them to a government group," the Professor said gravely. "We do not know who."

That stunned them all. They all shot each other looks, disconcerting expressions written on each face.

"How do ya know this, Chuck?"

"A friend I have that works in the Pentagon, Dr. Henry McCoy."

"So we aren't supposed to know this then."

"Correct." Charles' smile was small at the admission.

"We listenin', _mon ami_."

"Good, hear me."

The four X-Men listened to the Professor give them a concise account of the circumstances. Dr. Henry McCoy, who worked for the government as an expert on Human/Mutant Relations, had covertly informed Charles about a bit of newly revealed information on the F.o.H - the Friends of Humanity. A bigoted, terrorist anti-mutant group led by a man named Graydon Creed. McCoy had alerted Charles to a recent operation of theirs where according to Dr. McCoy and the Professor, the F.o.H members were kidnapping mutants and selling them to anonymous group of buyers for whatever purposes.

"Henry says he doesn't think there's been many, but the ones who have been are fairly helpless. My guess is that they are young mutants."

"Typical. Do we know who these group of buyers are and why they're doing this?" Ororo put forth.

"Unfortunately, no," Charles said. "But we do believe they have government ties which was partially how Dr. McCoy was made abreast of it."

Nothing could be done, however, until more information was forthcoming. The X-Men's job was to infiltrate their headquarters, retrieve their information, and in the case that any mutants were presently being held, to release them and bring them home, which was the reason for the suddenness of the task. It was a clean, effective plan. A simple in and out mission.

"Kitty, you'll handle the data," Charles designated.

She nodded. "Right."

"Gambit, you'll infiltrate first, to disable the security."

"_Oui_."

"Wolverine—"

"No need ta guide me, Chuck. I'm the best—"

"—there is at what you do," Charles, Storm, and Kathryn parroted simultaneously, having heard the statement numerous times before.

Logan snorted and Charles grinned. "I want you all to suit up. You leave in less than thirty."

Ororo nodded and headed for the door, along with Logan and Kathryn. The Professor called Gambit's name and asked him to stay back. "I want to show you the map for inside and where the security systems are located."

Ororo narrowed her eyes curiously at the request, but said nothing. She avoided Gambit's eyes and started down the hall into the women's changing room, just paces behind Kathryn. Ororo slowed and turned when she felt a strong hand close around her arm. "Ro, hold up a minute, darlin'."

Her eyes closed briefly, opening them again before turning to face him. His keen eyes roamed her face curiously, and she turned to catch him wearing a slight frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," she said. "What do you mean?"

"Yer nervous, unsettled. I noticed it as soon as ya walked in the room, so it ain't about the mission."

Damn the man's acute senses. "Gambit and I had a talk before coming down, that's all. We didn't exactly see eye to eye." That was an understatement, and an evasive one, but she supplied no more, still not knowing what to make of it herself.

"That's why he looked all pissed and disgruntled when he came in, eh?"

"I suppose."

"If the Cajun's upsettin' ya, 'Ro, I'll—"

"No, no, no," Ororo shook her head. "It's fine. Really, it's fine."

"Yer sure?"

"Yes."

Logan gave a short nod, then wrapped his arms around her. Ororo came willingly, throwing her arms around Logan's wide shoulders. She sighed deeply, her face buried into the crook of his neck. There she inhaled his scent, strong, woodsy. Like nature. He smelled like nature. She loved that. Her eyes closed as she savored it, along with the sure feel of him under her hands.

"I love you," she said to him, as if to prove a point, even as images of she and Remy blinked away in her mind. His dark eyes. His hand on her leg. His mouth drifting towards hers.

She slammed her eyes shut against the images. "I love you, so much," Ororo whispered harshly in the shell of Logan's ear, in defiance of anything inside her that would speak to the contrary. Her slender arms clenched around him.

Logan pulled back and cupped the sides of her face in his hands. "I know, 'Ro. I love ya too, darlin'."

Ororo stared at him a long moment. A small noise of indecision squeaked out from between her parted lips before leaning in and roughly planting her lips against his. The force behind her kiss made Logan's eyes widen in surprise and he chuckled deeply against her mouth, obviously taking some small measure of delight in her roughness. He released her lips, cracked a grin, and firmly slapped her on the behind. "Now go on, get suited up, eh?"

She forced herself to smile back and nodded her head. Leaving him staring after her as she entered the changing room door. Even as the African woman slid into the fitting black leather of her X-branded uniform, the nagging premonition that change was on the horizon made her stomach churn bitterly. She could feel it in her bones – as deeply as she could sense the changes in the weather. Like a shift in the winds, it was blowing her way.

**x x x**

Over an hour and a half later the X-Jet was hidden several yards away under the Shi'Ar cloaking device, and Wolverine and Storm stood outside the tall fences of the F.o.H perimeter. Gambit had already slipped inside the building to disable the security defenses for them all to enter without detection and Kathryn had followed behind. It was her job to wait for him, and once the defenses were down, to go ahead and access the sites mainframe computer and simultaneously retrieve and destroy the residual files.

The two remaining X-Men waited outside.

Beside him, Wolverine was giving Storm a subtle, but confused, glare. She held his hand so tightly that Wolverine was sure if it wasn't for the fact that he had an adamantium skeleton surely she would've broken his hand. She just seemed to stare ahead, at nothing.

"Ro—" Logan tried just as Gambit's drawl came over their communicators.

"Gambit, here. System's down."

"Got it," answered Storm. "We're on our way inside. Kitty, you may proceed now."

"Gotcha, Storm."

Once the signal from Gambit had been given, Kathryn made her way down the hallways amid the various twist and turns until she reached her desired level on the third floor. According to the maps they had reviewed in the air on their way in, there were three main-levels inside the building and one sub-level. This was where Storm and Wolverine were headed. And where the only current on-guard security was (outside of the watchman Storm had taken care of earlier upon their arrival).

Kathryn reached the sliding glass doors. The fact that they were sealed and were accessed only by personal authorization proved unproblematic as she quickly phased through the doors that at first glance appeared it would've barred her way. They were useless against her, however.

Wasting no time, Kathryn quickly crossed the room and inserted the drive into the port, her hands rapidly flying over the keys. Even as she worked, Kathryn released an excited, slightly nervous, chuckle. This was her first mission as an X-Men and the adrenaline was rushing through her veins. _Alright, Kathryn,_ she said to herself, _show 'em what you're made of._

**x x x**

At the secret, bottom level of the compound, Wolverine and Storm crept stealthy along the dark, slightly damp hall. She breathed deeply, consciously keeping in her check her ever-present fear of small, cramped spaces. Both X-Men kept a sharp ear and eye open for security that lurked, though neither of them worried. Wolverine's senses were second-to-none.

The lights mounted above on the ceiling cast a dim, slightly green glow on the walls and floor. The location seemed to tickle the recesses in the back of Logan's mind, but he ignored it and plowed ahead, sniffing out the first guard just as the man's approaching footsteps sounded in his hear. Before the man knew what had happened, his face met Logan's powerful fist and he slumped to the floor. Wolverine removed the man's firearm as well as the clip and pocketing the ammunition.

"You okay?" he whispered to Storm.

"Fine. Are you?"

"Peachy."

"Alright, let's go."

They continued around another corner. Before they'd left the mansion, Professor Xavier had initiated a telepathic sweep of the complex to be safe. According to the Professor's psychic scans, there was indeed a mutant located in the building – a young girl. Wolverine turned and told Ororo he could smell her the closer they approached – her along with four others.

Three more guards were taken down before coming upon the entrance. The sub-level operated on an entirely different security system which meant Wolverine and Storm had to wait until it was disabled to proceed. Right on time, Gambit's syrupy drawl echoed once more over the communicators notifying them that the last system was down and that he'd join them shortly. The security console, formerly flashing red died, indicating Gambit's success. ***SNIKT*** Wolverine placed his claws in the seam of them and pried open the thick, heavy doors.

The closer Wolverine got the more unsettled he had become, and the feeling seemed to come to a sharp head as he and Storm stepped inside the room. He shook his head futilely, trying to rid himself of the itchy feeling grating on the inside of his mind, but to no avail. The room was hardly lit, but since both he and she could see well in the dark the matter proved to be of no little consequence. It was a strangely empty room with cool, concrete floors. To the left was a small hall that led to a door, and to the right a short file cabinet sat in the corner alongside a desk. There were a handful of chairs strategically placed and not much else.

"She's through there," Wolverine pointed towards the small corridor. "But be careful, there's still someone other than the girl down here."

Ororo nodded. "And what about you?"

"I'll be there. I want to check out something though."

He watched her leave and slowly turned back towards the file cabinet. Apprehension began to weigh in on his shoulders with each forward step took, making his feet feel heavy, and his palms damp with sweat. He stared at the object several lengthy moments before unsheathing his claws and easily ripping through the metal lock. There was only one file in any of the drawers and it was stamped simply: DEPARTMENT K

He frowned down at the lettering when a barrage of memories assailed him without warning.

_Water. Needles. Champagne classes being toasting in celebration. Wire. Tank. Blood. Pain. Hot Pain._

Logan growled against the onslaught of images, staggering unsteadily on his feet. The fragmented bits continued brutally and he was forced to his knees under the weight of them. Logan could almost feel the pain, as if wasn't past pain, but present.

"What the hell are you doing, mutie?" he heard a man bellow harshly, just barely piercing through the mental hell he was experiencing. "You animals broke into my building!"

_Animals . . . Animals . . . "Become the animal, Wolverine," _an unfamiliar voice coerced._ "Embrace . . . the animal . . ."_

Logan thew back his head and roared, the angry, violent scream filling the room. He turned on the new intruder, fangs barred, his vision red. The stocky man immediately stopped his approach and recoiled in fear. Wolverine's vision tunneled in on him and he jumped.

**x x x **

Ororo knelt and quickly picked the locked door with the spare lock-picking paraphernalia she always kept on her. Gambit would've been proud. She swung open the door and found the small girl drawled up on a cot in the corner, barefooted and wearing only a thin shirt and pants. Her stringy black hair hung in her face and her green eyes stared at Ororo in bewilderment and shock.

"W-Who are you?" she stuttered out.

"My name is Storm. I'm an X-Man. We've come to get you out of here, okay?

The girl looked skeptical a moment, and Ororo tried to beseech her with her eyes. "I won't hurt you, child, I promise."

After another brief moment of doubt, the girl reluctantly stood and reached for Ororo. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm taking you out of here. Now come." The older woman grabbed the girl's hand and began to make her way out with the girl following. "Gambit, where are you?" she spoke into the communicator.

"On m'way down, _chère_."

"Good. Kat?"

"Yeah, Storm."

"Have you gotten the data?"

"Just finishing up."

"Alright, we have the girl. Gambit, Wolverine, and I will meet you at the jet. Please be careful."

"Sounds good, Storm."

Ororo ended the contact and continued the track back to main room. When they made it she gasped in horror, her wide eyes falling on Logan. He was on the ground, leaning over a bloody and badly bruised man, beating him into the floor with no signs of stopping, looking frighteningly ferocious and wild.

"LOGAN! Stop!" Storm cried. "What are you doing?"

Logan paused mid-strike at the sound of her voice. The man beneath him moaned. The young girl, Laura, huddled behind Storm and held on for dear life obviously scared by the display.

He could've killed the man.

Logan glanced down at the injured man with startled realization. He shook his head as if trying to dislodge something from it, and gaped silently, his breathing hard, and lowered his fist.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize I—"

Ororo stared at him. Gambit appeared a second later and stopped when he saw their faces. The Cajun looked from Storm, to the frightened girl, to Wolverine, and finally the man writhing in pain on the floor. _Damn._

"Y' alright, Stormy? Everyt'ing, _bien_?" he said, warily eying Logan.

Ororo simply nodded, still too shocked by the behavior she'd witnessed to speak. Finally, Logan grabbed some sort of file from off the floor beside him, and marched out of the room. Never speaking a word to any of them. Gambit went over to Storm and took her hand. "Y' sure yo' good, girl?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, though she wasn't. Not really.

"See ya got de _petite_."

"Yes," she said. "Come, let's get back."

On board, Wolverine didn't offer a word to anyone on the jet as they soared back home. She didn't let it concern her at first, she could tell something had shaken him. But he remained that way for the days following. Locked up and non-communicative, and her concern grew with each passing day.

* * *

><p><em><strong>THE PRESENT . . . <strong>_

Ororo jumped a little when she heard the light rap on her door. Her heart resounded in her chest, hoping against hope it was Logan, finally seeing fit to come and speak with her.

Her voice quivered when she called out for whoever it was to come in. The door opened to reveal Jean Grey's concerned face. Ororo noticeably shrank with the disappointment.

"Hey, Ororo."

"Jean."

"May I come in?"

Ororo nodded. The redhead quietly closed the door behind her. "Brought you up some tea."

"Thank you, but . . . I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. That's what I'm worried about, and everyone else too," Jean said. "Remy's been a bit anxious."

_Remy._

"Tell him I'm fine, too," Ororo said. He had tried to speak with her several times since the mission. She just wasn't in the frame of mind to discuss the situation between them and what had nearly happened right before their call to the mission. Not just yet. Not with this thing with Logan weighing on her mind.

Jean set the cup and saucer on Ororo's vanity table before coming to sit beside her, and taking a moment to regard her friend.

She looked awful. Her white hair was messily pulled back. Her ice blue eyes were dulled, making them lose their crystalline appearance, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Jean laid a gentle hand on her back. Ororo closed her eyes and exhaled. "I will be as soon as I know what is going on with Logan."

"That mission really shook him up."

"That's what worries me. I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

Ororo shook her head. "I have a bad feeling."

"Ororo—"

"You know Logan . . . how he gets . . ."

"He and the Professor will work it out."

"I wish I knew what was happening. He has not spoken to me since that day. I'm just— I'm anxious, Jean." She sighed despondently and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what to do."

"Even so, Ro, worrying yourself until you're sick will not do any good. I imagine he's shaken and upset, but he'll be alright. You know the guy. You can't keep him down."

"You think he just needs time then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Jean said. She pushed back the hair from her friend's shoulder and placed a hand over hers in a show of comfort. "He just needs a little time."

Ororo nodded, in spite of the counter-intuitive feeling she had inside. A little optimism wouldn't kill her. She offered a weak smile. "Right. Okay."

Jean smiled at her and Ororo allowed one in return. "I'll take that tea now, if you don't mind."

**x x x**

Nearly an hour later, Jean left Ororo asleep on her bed. She smiled fondly at her tuckered friend and quietly exited the room and walked downstairs. She found Gambit waiting for her at the bottom.

"What's she doin', Jean? What'd she say?" he urged.

"She's sleeping. She's just been worried about Logan."

Gambit sucked his teeth and snorted dejectedly. His eyes closed on a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. God, how he wanted to talk to her. Yes, he knew she was worried about the _couillon_, but there were things left unsettled between them. He'd be damned if that was the whole of it, what they had discussed in his room days prior.

When he'd almost kissed her, there was something in her eyes. He knew his Stormy – better than anyone. There was something between them. He wanted to talk to her and yet once again it seemed the Wolverine was barring his way.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I decided to post the proverbial 'poo' part in a separate update that I'll update the day after tomorrow (if not earlier). Only because this chapter was already broken up so much, and I'd rather the next part be separate. Thank you for reading and all your kind feedback. Sorry if I didn't respond to your review directly. I couldn't remember who I had and who I hadn't :D I appreciate it nonetheless.

**End Note: ** This chapter was partly inspired by the 90's animated series episode: "Night of the Sentinels."


	11. Chapter 11 cont'd from chapter 10

**Chapter Eleven  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Logan had watched Ororo sleeping for hours. He didn't know how long for sure – he had lost count. He was draped across one of her chairs tucked in the corner of the loft watching as the goddess slumbered on. Damn beautiful, she was. He'd never seen her sleep so heavily; she must have been incredibly tired, Logan reckoned. A pang of guilt struck him.<p>

During that time of silence wherein he watched her – the rhythmic rise and fall of her body under the covers – Logan mused. He pondered back to when he'd first came to the mansion, how he had been on a one track mission to learn about his past with the help of Professor Xavier, and then blow the hell out of there immediately. No pass go. He'd been so obsessed by that goal at one time. Before coming to the X-Men, the notion of regaining his memories had consumed his life and every waking thought.

But the geeks had grown on him, dammit – the students too. From there, there had been Jeannie, and even though he could look back on it now and say that it was wrong, he'd set his predatory sights on her right away. Practically from the moment he saw her.

Then there had been the weather goddess. The windrider had swooped right in and claimed a piece of his heart too, one bigger than he realized, big enough to even overshadow Jean once he'd pulled his head out of his ass.

The past had come back to bite him in that ass, and to remind of his whole purpose for staying at the mansion originally. Fate had spoken . . . and this had to be done . . .

_"Logan, do not do this."_

_"I am, Chuck."_

_"This is not wise."_

_"I have ta."_

_"No, you are wrong. We have more information now. That is good news, Logan. With what we learned from Laura and the psy-scans of your mind we can dig deeper if you stay. I know your experience at the F.o.H. headquarters was both painful and jarring, but it also helped us in a way we could never imagine. It activated a bevy of your forgotten memories. You should stay and let us explore them further."_

_"This ain't yer problem anymore, Chuck."_

_"Logan—!"_

_"The only reason I agreed ta stay here was ta find out 'bout my past," Logan argued. "I got comfy 'n fergot about what matters. It's time I go searchin' again."_

_"Is that what you call it . . . getting 'comfy'?" Charles spat the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "That's what you have with Ororo, is it? You'd aban—"_

_"It ain't none of yer business, Charles," Logan hissed. _

_The Professor had never looked so sad or upset. Disappointment shone in Charles' eyes. He'd hoped against hope that the last several times working with Logan would not lead to this, but it seemed it was._

_"Logan," he began calmly. "I urge you . . . please . . . reconsider this," he insisted, stressing every syllable. _

_Logan paused in his pacing, his rigid back turned away from the Professor. _

_"I can't."_

**x x x**_  
><em>

The f**king mission.

He could've killed that F.o.H. bastard – and he would've too, if Ororo hadn't come. Gladly so. His knuckles had burn with the need to draw out his claws and make the man into minced meat.

Hell, he had been deluding himself in thinking that this was over and he could go on merrily.

He hadn't even seen it coming. The images had blinded him with white hot ferocity . . . and swiftly. So crystal clear and intensely vivid that it had seemed as if he had been right back there. And with the help of Charles in the days following the misson he finally knew now where "there" was.

_"There's an abandoned military compound in the Canadian Rockies. It's called Alkali Lake. You should find answers there."_

That's what he had been doing while Ro sat up waiting for him. Charles had probed his mind, day after day, dredging up shit that he'd never seen before their journey to the Friends of Humanity base.

Logan's firm grip tightened on the arm of the chair, and his mouth thinned into a grim frown. Flamin' hell. How could he tell the woman he loved that was going off to chase old ghosts?—Forgotten ghosts.

He'd been figuring on how since he'd slipped into her room as she lay sleeping and was none closer to a proper idea – a proper way. In fact his anxiety grew as he watched her sleeping face. The soft sleep noises she made. His chest felt tight. How in the flamin' hell was he going to do this?

When the goddess slowly began to stir Logan knew his time was up. He had to face her . . . his time was simply up and there was nothing to be done about it.

**x x x**

Ororo slowly pulled herself up, wiping at her eyes and yawning. She peeled them open, glanced down at her wristwatch and groaned before setting up fully, the covers slipping from her as she sat up against the headboard. Bleary blue eyes slowly glanced around the room until they stopped on a second pair full of intensity and shining with a glare of substantial regret.

"Logan!" she gasped in delight. "I've been waiting for you!" Ororo's face broke into a small smile at seeing him. "I wanted to speak with you."

Logan swallowed with some effort, his words coming out thickly. "I need ta speak with you too, Ro."

As soon as he said it Ororo's smile started to slip. The tone of his voice was low and emotionless; the sound of it fell heavy between them as did the ensuing silence. Immediately, Ororo knew something was wrong, and her stomach began to churn sickeningly. She swallowed deeply past the lump forming in her throat, moistening her lips before she spoke, when her eyes dropped down to the single black duffel at Logan's feet.

Her gaze rose almost hesitantly from his feet, back up his legs and body, to the sight of his eyes sitting beneath his troubled black brows.

It was there she saw his intent. The purpose of this long-awaited visit. Ororo knew what was happening without him even saying an explanatory word.

For a lengthy moment not a sound was heard in the room. But the sky outside blackened instantly, just as one cool, lazy tear slid down Ororo's cheek. Neither of their gazes broke while the two stared between each other.

Ororo was the first to speak.

"No . . . No, no, no, no . . ." she muttered softly. She slowly shook her head from side to side, the soft alto of her voice tinged with the beginnings of heartbreak.

The Canadian sighed. "I got to, Ro."

"No! No, no, no! No, Logan!"

Outside, there was a resounding peel of thunder.

She knew it. She knew it. Goddess, she'd known this was coming – had felt it.

He was leaving her. Just like Remy had. And so soon! Without warning, none except his absences.

"Don't make this harder than it is, Ro," he said to her.

"Harder than it is? Harder than it is? You are leaving me!"

"I'm comin' back," he countered quickly. "Probably sooner 'n ya think. I'll come back ta ya."

"And when will that be, pray tell? . . . A week, a month, a year?" Ororo squinted at him.

"Probably three weeks," he said. "At the most."

"You aren't leaving, Logan."

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. "Ya don't tell me what ta do, darlin'. Ya can't pull rank on me."

"No? Oh! That's right, because you are no longer part of the team, right? Is that what you're saying?"

When he didn't answer her immediately, Ororo angrily sprang from the bed and marched up towards him. Logan leaned back in his seat and calmly met her deadly glare. Ororo's voice lowered chillingly, dropping an octave as she fought to control her breathing.

"You mean to tell me," she began, "that after all we just went through in this relationship – us getting back together after what happened with Jean, after I **forgave** you - that you're not only going to leave the team but me as well?" she intoned dangerously. "You said you loved," Ororo accused.

"I do," he asserted just as firmly.

She flung her arms in his direction wildly. "Then what the hell are you doing!"

"I'm getting this mess out the way, Ro," Logan shouted, jumping to his feet so that barely half a foot now separated them. "Once 'n for all. So shit like what happened last week never happens again. F**k, can't ya see that?"

"Can **you** see?" she challenged him, staring at the man before her in wonder. "Can't you see what you're doing? What you're giving up? The Professor can you help you discover these things. You don't have to go. He's trying Logan. It takes time."

"Too much flamin' time! And ain't none of it done much good up until what we found out last week, after questioning the little Laura girl and Charles looking into my head. I got a lead now. I know where I can look to find out answers," he went on, "instead of here playing house and being good little soldier boy while the bastards who took my life are still out there," he finished.

Ororo couldn't believe what she was hearing from him. Had his time there with them – with **her** – been so terrible?

"Logan, you have a new life, a new family. Why isn't that good enough for you?"

"I ne—"

"That's always the case. You're too busy looking back that you can't ever move forward. Why can't you be happy with what you have now, Logan, hm? Tell me!"

"'Cos I'll never be happy until I get that piece of my life back! Until I know what the hell is wrong with my head. 'Til I know who the redhead is that I keep having flashbacks about and why . . ." his voice suddenly softened, "why she calls me . . . James."

Ororo frowned, her brow knotting. Confusion permeated her thoughts. "Your . . . Your name is . . . J-James?"

Logan groaned. "Maybe. I dunno . . . But I will."

He stooped and grabbed his bag.

Ororo began to panic. She took a step forward. "Don't Logan. **Please**."

His head dropped and he shifted on his feet. Logan exhaled resignedly and beckoned the woman forward with his free hand. "C'mere, come gimme a kiss goodbye."

"You . . . are not . . . LEAVING!" Ororo yelled. Her darkened blue eyes swam and tears crept down her face. Logan closed his eyes against the sight of them, clenching his jaw against the pain he felt himself at hurting her. He thought better of kissing her goodbye after all. Maybe if he did he'd never leave and do what it was he had to do. Logan spared her one last glance, crossing bedroom, and pulled open the door. "I'll be back, Ro. I promise ya."

He left the room, but Ororo followed and was hot on his heels, running down the steps after him. "No! Please! Logan!" _Not again, not again . . .  
><em>

She pulled on his arm, her face wet from crying. Scott, Jean, and Bobby stood from their seats in the sitting room, sadly watching the scene taking place in the foyer.

"Don't leave me again. Do you hear me? Re—Logan!"

Logan froze with his hand on the knob, facing the door.

By now several members of the team had joined the others in the entrance hall, staring at Wolverine and Ororo with sad countenances. Jean looked on at her best friend tearfully. Ororo's pain swept over her in waves, empathically and through their connection. Scott tightened his hold on her when he heard his fiancée's sniffles. He, too, was saddened for Ororo. She had just helped he and Jean reconcile only weeks earlier and here she was now feeling the pain of encroaching loss.

**x x x**

Ororo's sweater was falling off of her shoulders, strands of hair stuck to her damp face, and her slightly trembling body shook with quiet sobs. Her next words were so full of heartfelt petition, everyone watching heart's nearly broke at the sound. It was unnerving to watch the regal goddess reduced to begging and pleading.

"Don't," she beseeched him, ". . . please . . . don't–don't leave . . . ," she whispered.

Logan eyes burned. The action unfamiliar. He hung his head low and muttered without turning to face her. "I'll be back, darlin'. I promise."

Ororo felt the loss even before she closed her eyes and heard the door slam shut a moment later.

Sheets of rain immediately began to pound down upon the roof and Ororo fell in a heap unto the floor.

Immediately Jean surged forward and held her friend. She opened her mouth but could find no adequate words of comfort to offer. She just held her.

Members of the team shot each other sad looks as they all observed the two women helplessly. After a while they all slowly began to scatter, touching Ororo lightly and telling her it'd be all right. Ororo could hardly answer; she just met their touches with her own, appreciatively laying her hands over theirs.

The door opened again several minutes later and Remy came in with Rogue following, both of them drenched and dripping unto the floor.

He opened his mouth to complain about the rain and froze.

His dark eyes went to Jean, holding his Stormy huddled on the floor, and hurried over and dropped to the ground beside them. _Mon Dieu._ He didn't know what the hell was happening, but his heart ached upon hearing her weep – seeing her in such a miserable position.

"_Chèrie_ . . . _Chèrie_ what's wrong, huh? Tell Remy." His heart hammered with alarm, until he began to make out what she was saying.

"L-Left," she stammered wetly. "He left. H-He's gone."

Remy's brow scrunched with confusion a moment before the realization hit him. He glanced at Jean. She nodded her head slowly, answering the silent question in his eyes.

A small gasp sounded.

"Logan . . . Logan's gone?" Rogue screeched behind them. Jean nodded silently. Rogue stood in shock for a long moment. She made a noise that sounded something like a sob, before bolting up the staircase. Seconds later they heard her door slam.

Remy sighed, taking over Jean's position and pulling Ororo into his arms, heedless of his wet clothes. He held her and brushed her hair soothingly, his own unresolved situation with Ororo temporarily forgotten. He didn't know how to feel. He was sure if he'd explored it further he'd be ashamed so he didn't. He just held her, comforting like he'd done so many times before when it was just them.

"I have ya, _chère_. Hush, _bébé_, s'okay. S'okay, Stormy."

He pressed his cools lips to her forehead, the rain still beating down outside amidst flashes of lightning that intermittently illuminated the dark, empty hall.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Please, do not kill me for this chapter. And no, this isn't the last we'll see of Logan.

This is the defining chapter of the story; we're officially halfway now. I understand this fic may or may not be proceeding the way some would want it to, but I've done my best not to write a conventional, straightforward, romance story. I know how I've decided this will end, and I hope you'll catch my vision if you should decide to stick with me. Thank you for all your reviews, alerts, favorite-ing, and feedback. It's very appreciated.

**To Be Continued**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Dude, it's strange to know Logan's gone, ya know?" Bobby Drake mused aloud. "I mean, just like that. It's crazy."<p>

In the seat directly situated across from Bobby, Warren Worthington nodded his agreement. "It already feels strange. To think that he's gone, I mean." The man affectionately codenamed Angel ran his hand through his short golden locks. "It's a shame."

Scott listened silently on. He, Warren, and Bobby, were the first members among the team waiting in the War Room for a decidedly early debriefing with the rest of the X-Men—called, of course, by the Professor. The hot topic of today's meeting? Unsurprisingly, Logan's expected/not-so-expected departure.

"Did you see, Ororo?" Bobby whistled. "Man, that was crazy. I've never seen Ororo like that before."

Scott finally decided to chime in. "I've known Ororo since she first joined the X-Men, and I haven't either – not apart from her Claustrophobia," he explained gravely.

It was true that Scott Summers normally wasn't the type of man to discuss another teammate's personal life amongst other members like a trio of chattering schoolgirls, but in this occasion, he wanted his opinion on the Wolverine out there, just for the record. There'd be no question as to where Scott stood or how he felt about Wolverine when the dust settled, as far as he was concerned.

"I'm not surprised Logan left," he said. "I'm not saddened by it either."

"Scott," Warren began to object, but Scott shook his head at him.

"No, it's true. All he does is cause problems. He has ever since he first showed up on our doorstep." Scott frowned then. "Ororo's better off without him, and so are we," he finished. Clipped. Resolute. Firm.

Warren and Bobby sat in silence and exchanged wary looks with each other. The hard note that had found its way into their leader's voice spoke volumes, more than anything he could or would naturally reveal. Scott was stoic that way.

Scott and Logan were not friends, had never been, and likely never would be. Though it had to be said that was more Logan's fault than Scott's. All because Logan had flirted and pursued Scott's fiancée right under the man's own nose. Not to mention how Logan had undermined Scott practically during his entire career as an X-Man, being the hard-ass that he was. Not only in his pursuit of Jean, but with his blatant disregard for Scott's authority. And now, more recently, he had struck again with his blatant disregard for Ororo – one of Scott's teammates, his fellow co-leader, and also – more importantly than that – one of his dearest friends.

Logan was a cad, and obviously no good – for anyone.

"Rogue's pretty upset too," Bobby mentioned. "I mean, he was the reason she first came here. I think she kinda hero-worshiped him." His head quirked curiously to the side. "It was actually so bad that when we were dating I even thought she kinda liked him." He and Warren chuckled at little.

"I think she's got eyes for the Cajun now," Bobby piped, and their laughter grew, or rather their snickering.

After a sobering minute or two, Bobby added as an afterthought, "I know she's hurt he's gone. He left her a note saying goodbye and that he'd be back but," Bobby Drake shook his head, "I don't think it did much good."

The door opened suddenly then, and the three of them turned to look as the very object and topic of their discussion walked in.

It was easy to see Rogue had been crying from the telling red eyes she was currently sporting. She offered a weak greeting to each of them and solemnly took a seat two down from Bobby. Her former boyfriend offered her an encouraging smile and leaned over and patted her hand.

Next to enter was Kitty, and then Jean, naturally taking the seat beside her fiancé. The occupants greeted each other softly, the entire mood of the room unusually rather somber. Scott leaned over to whisper to his fiancée. "Have you, uh, spoken with Ororo since . . . ?"

"Hardly," Jean responded. "But I know Ororo; she'll be down. She won't let this affect X-Business. She'll pretend she's fine and all together, instead of letting someone be her shoulder," Jean surmised sadly. "I volunteered to substitute a few of her classes for a couple days and she outright refused."

Scott sighed, once more silently damning the Wolverine for yet another mess he had created.

Professor Xavier joined them minutes later wearing a mild expression on his face. He appeared normal, dressed impeccably in one of his ever-present tailored made suits, but the normally present good-natured gleam in his eye was missing as he addressed them.

"Afternoon, my X-Men."

The older man wheeled to the front of the room, taking his place at the head of the round table with the rest of them sitting around him like King Arthur and his knights. They returned the Professor's greeting with various acknowledgements and salutations. Xavier's eyes went around the table. Instinctively knowing who it was the Professor was searching out, Jean chirped up. "Ororo will be down soon, Professor, I'm sure."

"Of course, I don't doubt that," Charles assured, knowing Ororo's tenacity as well, if not better than most. "Is Gambit coming?"

**x x x **

Gambit took his time ambling down the hallways en route to the War Room – conflicted greatly by his dilemma with Ororo. What was going to happen between him and his Stormy, Gambit wondered. What was going to happen? It had been several days since their candid 'moment' in his room and he still had no clear answer.

He wanted one.

Gambit hadn't spoken to Ororo since the night Wolverine left. After the drama in the foyer, he'd carried up to her bedroom and stroked her gently as she lay crying, her head on his lap. He listened like a dutiful best friend, and possibly something more, as she sobbed out what had taken place between her and Logan right before he'd left.

Something struck him so poignantly at the moment while he sat listening to her sniffling in his lap. This wasn't the first in his life he had found himself consoling Ororo in the midst of a hard time. When she had still been trapped in that twelve-year-old body, she used to wake up occasionally from terrible nightmares about the Shadow King, and if it wasn't the memories of the Shadow King that frightened her it was ones about her parents.

But this was the first time, he realized, that he didn't want to comfort her merely as a friend. That's the position he usually played in these scenarios, but it wasn't adequate enough for him this time.

The revelation was like a ray of light piercing through the dark. He froze completely, his hand in her hair. His heart raced. Ororo felt the change in body language and turned to look up at him. She began to sit up.

Ororo stared at him, running a hand down tear-stained cheeks. "What's wrong, Remy?"

Remy didn't speak. He heard the question, but didn't begin to know how to answer it. Or even if this was time the time to bring it up – what it was that was happening between them.

Remy turned to her and slowly began shaking his head. He waved it off. "Don' worry, _chère_. I don' t'ink now's de time."

Ororo frowned and rubbed at her tired eyes. "The time for what?"

Remy hesitated. "I don' t'ink I can be a good friend right now, 'Roro," he said, head down.

"Why do you say that?" she pried.

He shook his head again. "Stormy, I wanna be here fo' y', girl. I wanna say all de comfortin' t'ing's dat y' need t' hear 'bout de Wolverine, an' all that, but . . . I can't because I wouldn' mean it. Yo' kno' I ain' de type t' say somet'ing dat I don' feel, _chère_."

"What do you feel?" Ororo asked after several seconds' silence.

"Dat de _couillon_ should've neva had de chance t' be wit' y' in de first place, 'cos I shoulda been dere . . ." he answered honestly. "Dat I ain't fo' a minute sorry he's gone, even t'ough I kno' y' upset about it." He sighed and trained his gaze back on Ororo. "I can't comfort y' like a best friend should right now because dat's not de way I feel 'bout you. Yo' mo' den dat . . . Dat's not where we are anymore."

"Then this is about the other day," Ororo ventured slowly, "when we were in your room the day of the mission?"

"Yes an' no. Dis goes back even further than that, girl. Dat day y' said dat y' loved me, but never told me if y' still do."

Ororo jumped up. Suddenly anxious and hasty. "You're right, Remy. Now is not a good time. I think I'm ready for bed."

She heard him kiss his teeth. "Why do y' keep tryin' t' ignore de situation, 'Roro?" Gambit followed her, simultaneously annoyed and encouraged by her dodge. Annoyed because he wanted a proper answer, and encouraged because for some reason she wasn't being straight with him. If she didn't love him anymore, and she loved the Wolverine then she could come right out and say it, couldn't she? Ororo had always been a direct woman. Why was this suddenly the exception?

"I'm not in the mood discuss this right now, I'm sorry. And I think that fact alone should, at least, partially answer your question."

Gambit scowled at Ororo's back. "Yeah? How's dat, _chère_?"

Ororo bowed her head, eyes closing on a soft exhale. "Because he's gone. I love Logan and he's gone – he left."

Gambit's heart sank at the quiet admission, and his disappointment grew even further with her next words to him. "I wasn't lying that afternoon in your room when I told you that I loved Logan. I do." A tiny tear fell from Ororo's eye and she wiped at her with her fingertips. "I just – I do not wish to talk about it—"

Gambit stared at her several seconds before pressing his lips together and nodding in disheartened resignation. "_Non_, _non_, I get it, _chère_." He held his hands up. "Y' ain' in de mood t' talk." Gambit studied her a few more silent seconds and then turned and headed for the door. "Good night," he muttered in a rush, and then was gone.

Now alone in her room, Ororo closed her eyes and silently berated herself—about both Logan and Remy. Logan would come back to her, Ororo was sure of it. She consoled herself with those thoughts. Even as she felt into a restless sleep.

The Professor greeted him as he came through the door. "We were just wondering about you. Glad you made it."

Gambit nodded. Weren't these meetings mandatory? It wasn't as if he had choice, now did he?

Gambit wasn't surprised to see everyone in their seats and waiting as he found an empty chair. He took a glance around. His Stormy wasn't there yet. He should've gone up to check on her.

Bobby idly tapped his pen against the table, and Kitty rolled her eyes in annoyance. The rest of them seemed lost in their own thoughts at the moment.

At it were, Ororo was the last to enter the War Room, and like Rogue, she didn't look so good. Even so, the woman was helplessly gorgeous; there was no getting around that fact.

She crossed the room, standing tall, back straight, avoiding the stares that even now she could feel tracking her as she wordlessly took the chair next to Jean. It was a seat just one over from Gambit who was regarding her with a slight frown. Not that she blamed him. She owed him—just what exactly she didn't know. Not completely.

The cool façade she was demonstrating didn't fool anyone. The breakdown a handful of them had witnessed in the foyer the afternoon Wolverine left belied the casualness she had hoped to pull off. She knew it as surely as the others, and her cheeks burned with the shame and embarrassment of it all.

Unable to avoid their stares any longer, Ororo mustered a tight, cursory grin and gentle incline of her head towards her fellow teammates and quietly apologized for making them wait.

"You're fine, Ororo," said the Professor. "It's not a problem."

Inwardly, Ororo winced. The last thing she wanted was for them to accommodate her, and look upon her with pity. Ororo nodded and was glad when Charles began speaking and the eyes that formerly had been plastered on her slowly refocused to the front.

Professor Charles Xavier spoke to a rapt audience. There wasn't a soul present that was not curious about Wolverine's sudden abandonment of the team (and Ororo for that matter). Clear interest shone in the eyes of his X-Men as he briefed them on the events of the mission to the Friend of Humanity headquarters over a week ago. Since several of the members had not been involved in the mission, this was their first time in hearing a detailed account of it, and what had taken place there. The mission that was supposed to be simple. All the Professor retold, Gambit, Storm, and Kathryn were already aware of since they had been there, first account. Even their curiosity and attention peaked, however, when Charles began to discuss how this all pertained to the Wolverine.

"The file Logan had found was simply labeled Department K," the Professor explained. "He brought the file to me and together we explored its contents. Needless to say, the information we discovered in it was troubling."

"What did it say, Professor?" Scott asked.

Ororo listened intently.

"The anonymous group that was buying the kidnapped mutants from the F.o.H. was the Canadian government group we just spoke of – 'Department K'."

Canada. That certainly was a bit of news. The pieces were slowly beginning to fit together. Xavier continued on. "Within this Department K is a program designated only as 'Weapon X'. The file didn't contain much detailed information, but we did get that it dealt in experimentation on mutants. The details were vague. After learning that, it was obvious to see why they had agreed to buy kidnapped mutants from the F.o.H. and what little Laura's fate would have been had we not intervened in time."

"But why the Friends of Humanity?" Rogue asked hesitantly.

"I wonder as well, Professor," Jean said. "They've never had any dealings with them before. They aren't even in the same country."

"With the practical decimation of the F.o.H.'s resources it's easy to understand why they would have contacted them to help retrieve mutants. The F.o.H. were desperate, and I'm sure jumped at the chance to not only kidnap the mutants they hate so vehemently, but to receive payment from some shadowy deep-pocketed government group."

"A two-for-one deal," Scott sneered in disgust.

"Precisely."

You could see the various looks of disgust on the faces of the occupants in the room, struggling to absorb the information—as revolting as it was.

"Obviously, this was a big break for Logan. A bit of a blessing and a curse. You all know I've worked with him since he first arrived here, working to help him rediscover his memories and past. You also know the efforts had not been particularly fruitful." Charles' voice sounded a bit regretful.

"Logan had been increasingly experiencing flashbacks over the last several weeks. Snatches of buried memory that would come to him at unpredictable times, possibly at a trigger of some sort. At the F.o.H. base, he experienced a violent one. Something about the circumstances prompted a very intense flashback for him. That compounded with the file he had found, and you can understand his reaction to poor Mr. Graydon Creed when he found him."

A surge of pity washed over Ororo and her eyes gathered moisture. She swallowed thickly and bowed her head. Her heart ached.

Gambit watched her with a scrutinizing eye.

"I interrogated Laura and scanned her mind. Her own memories held bits and pieces of conversation she had overhead from her kidnappers that confirm our theory."

"What theory?" Warren frowned.

"That this group was involved in what happened to Logan and his adamantinum skeleton. Government experimentation on mutants." There seemed to be a collective intake of breath. Ororo's throat felt tight.

"For days I probed Logan's mind, and this time the channels seemed clearer. As if a block had been removed, onset by the episode he had at the base. One thing showed up consistently—a military base in the Canadian Rockies called Alkali Lake."

"So that's where he's gone," Ororo said, the words hardly audible—murmured more to herself than them. Heads turned to stare at her, eyes shone out holding muted sympathy.

Charles nodded apologetically. "Yes, it is."

Gambit watched her the whole time. Noting her reactions. He saw her wipe discreetly at her eyes and knew she trying to rid herself of unwanted tears.

The Professor went on. Explaining to them how he had discouraged Logan from leaving and all that, but Ororo barely heard any of it. All she could concentrate on was Logan—his situation, where he was headed. It was difficult to process.

He said he would come back to her. He promised. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

She heard different ones ask various question about the subject and enquiring about Laura and her plight, but it was white noise to her. Even when the Professor finished, dismissed them all and they began shuffling out of the room whispering amongst themselves, Ororo paid no mind. Just sat there, staring down at the table. Jean made her way over to her, laid a hand on her shoulder and asked if she was alright. Ororo told her she was, and Jean simply sighed. Offered her an ear and shoulder, if and when she felt up to it. The redhead cast a wistful glance back at her friend before leaving.

Gambit stood but didn't leave immediately. He considered attempting to speak with Ororo, but honestly she didn't look up to it. He should have whipped Wolverine's ass that day he confronted him in the locker room, and he almost wanted the Wolverine to show himself at the mansion again some day so soon so that he could correct this mistake.

He was the pondering the notion when Scott called his name. Gambit turned to him and saw Scott standing outside the door, gesturing with his head towards the hall. "Can I have a moment?"

Gambit took one last glance back at Storm and nodded, reluctant to leave. As if sensing this, Scott said, "I'll only be a minute."

"_D'accord._"

Scott closed the door to the War Room and faced Gambit. "I'll cut right to the chase, LeBeau."

One of Gambit's eyebrows lifted curiously. "Wha' is it?"

Scott blew air through his nose, and nodded back at the closed War Room door. "That woman in there, she loves you."

To the chase, indeed. Both of Gambit's brows lifted this time, even higher if that was possible. "Excuse me?"

"And you love her," Scott continued, ignoring Gambit's slight look of surprise.

"Where is dis comin' from, _mon ami_?"

"A conversation Ororo and I had a few weeks ago."

Gambit looked skeptical for second.

"Jean and I were going through a time, as you probably already know, and Ororo tried to help." Gambit did know. He had been the one to encourage Ororo to help her friends, and forgive Jean while she was at it.

"She came and talked to me one afternoon and was telling me to give Jean a chance to work it out. She told me that she had forgiven Jean and Logan and that I should try to as well." Gambit continued to listen.

"I asked her why she forgave Logan and she said to me it was because she loved him." Gambit frowned, his jaw hardening. Not something he wanted to hear stated again.

"But then I mentioned you—I asked her if she forgave you for leaving back then because she loved you too." Gambit's red/black eyes bore into Scott's shielded ones, imploring him to continue.

Scott smiled a little. "When I asked her Ororo got this nervous look on her face. She tried to hide, but I know Ororo. She said that yes that was why and that she's always loved you as friend." Scott smirked suddenly. "But I knew better. Ororo was devastated when you disappeared the first time. Trust me, Jean and I were there to witness it. When you returned it was like a bit of her had been revived. She won't admit to you just yet, because she won't admit it to herself, but Ororo has feelings for you – beyond friendship."

"Looks like she's hung up on the Wolverine right now," Gambit said bitterly.

"Oh, she loves Logan. I don't doubt that. But Ororo loves you, too. And she has for a long time. You just weren't around long enough to find out. Now you are. You should think about doing something about that," Scott advised.

He stared at him a second longer and left Gambit standing in the hall in deep contemplation. Ororo had helped him, hopefully he would be able to help her. Remy LeBeau was no saint, but Scott knew he'd give his life for Ororo in a second. When she had been lost, and the X-Men couldn't find her, it'd been the Cajun who had taken care of her, shielded her, protected her. And while it was true that he had hurt her by leaving, Scott suspected there was more to his departure than was commonly thought. Unlike, Wolverine.

Scott Summers had no love for Logan. He could empathize with the man's plight, but to leave behind a team and a woman who cared for him was incredibly low in Scott's opinion. Logan was thickheaded, and he wondered if the man would ever learn. Ororo was the best thing that could ever happen to Logan, and he was sick of the bastard hurting his family and friends.

He had meant it when he'd told them earlier they were better off without him. He hoped Ororo would realize she was too.

He was confident in the Cajun's ability to help with that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> My thanks to those who've read and commented on the story :D

**To Be Continued**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen  
><strong>

* * *

><p>He had been at the mansion for a few months now, and still Gambit found himself fascinated by the Danger Room and how incredible it was.<p>

He had to keep his skills impeccable and sharp. Not just combat skills, but his 'stealthier' ones as well. The ones he hadn't used since making the mansion his home, and trading thievery (no matter how lucrative) for an honest living.

He began his session today with a typical Danger Room run-through—smashing holographic baddies, dodging obstacles, avoiding being tagged. Still smooth as ever. Then, it went on to his personal favorite—procuring rare items of immense cost that just happened not to belong to him. Gambit smirked to himself. He was almost certain Professor Xavier and Scotty Boy would not approve of the former so-called Prince of the notorious Thieves' Guild using their beloved technology to retain and hone his thieving abilities, but what the hell. They didn't call him 'Gambit' for nothing.

Remy LeBeau was a risk-taker.

Gambit grueled and sweated another hour in the Danger Room before finally calling it quits. Bobby and Kathryn were heading to Harry's later, and yesterday, Rogue had asked Gambit if he would accompany her downtown with them. He could hardly say no in the face of her pitiful state. Both she and Ororo had taken the Wolverine's absence hard. He had long since learned about Anna's and Logan's precursory events that lead them to the X-Men and the friendship that had followed. Seemed Logan obviously wasn't above hurting his woman or his friends.

Gambit said yes to accompanying her and the 'date' was set.

Panting, tired, and sweating Gambit, exited through the automatic chrome doors precisely as Summers was gliding through them. Light glinted off his rose quartz shades.

"Just finish up?" Scott said to him.

Gambit wiped his sweaty face with a towel and flung it over his shoulder. "Yup. S'all yours, _mon ami_."

"Oh, hey." Gambit stopped and turned around.

"Ororo was looking for you."

"Yeah?"

Scott nodded his head. "Yeah, but I don't know where she is now. From how she was dressed I'd say she's at the greenhouse again."

Gambit quickly made to head off when Scott stopped him a second time.

"Oh and LeBeau?"

"Yeah? What?"

"Keep in mind what I told you earlier." Scott leveled him with a long, meaningful look, nodded once more, and disappeared through the Danger Room doors.

Gambit stood there, rooted in place for a few thoughtful seconds before bustling off toward the locker room. After a quick shower, he worked his way outside to the greenhouse. He couldn't stop his heart from racing a bit. The fact that Ororo was initiating contact was a small miracle in-and-of-itself, for the weather goddess had been terribly sullen since the debriefing.

Gambit hesitated before opening the door to the greenhouse, his hand still on the door handle, before knocking once and pushing it open. The humidity met him as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Stormy?"

Gambit turned slowly in place, glancing appreciatively around at Ororo's thriving green sanctuary. He gently fingered a nearby begonia. He grinned softly, admiring the obvious care Ororo took with her precious plants, here, in her haven. He walked around and called out again.

"Stormy?"

He spun around upon hearing her soft, muted footfalls against the ground and saw Ororo come into view, stopping near a potted plant on one of the shelves and watering it with a small, localized raincloud. She went on to another, and Gambit just watched contentedly for a moment. He'd never cease to be amazed at Ororo's power. She was every bit like a living, breathing, ethereal deity who had graciously deigned to live among men.

She was breathtaking—barefooted and wearing a simple soil-mottled T-shirt with worn, but fitted jeans – ripped at the knees – and her abundant cloud of hair held back by a brightly-colored scarf made from African cloth.

Ororo's eyes reverted back to their familiar icy blue after giving the plants a thorough soaking, and turned around to find Remy glaring at her. She started a bit, startled, before relaxing and given him a tiny, cordial smile.

"Hey there."

"_Chèrie_."

Gambit gestured broadly around the dense plant-life surrounding them. "Look like yo' been hard at work, _chère_. _Mon Dieu_. Dis is really somet'ing."

"Really?" Ororo grinned a bit. "You like it?"

"_Oui_. S'very beautiful, _chère_. _Tres belle_."

Ororo smiled again, satisfied, and stared down at her feet. "Thank you."

Several seconds silence.

"Scotty said y' were askin' f' me," Gambit said to her.

"Yeah, I want to speak with you. Are you busy?"

"Not f' y', _chère_."

"Good. Come, sit with me."

Ororo led him to a small iron-wrought table in a corner near the rear of the greenhouse with two matching chairs on either side. Ororo sat down first, and Gambit followed. They sat, and after a brief period where neither spoke, Ororo began their talk with an apology.

"I'm sorry, Remy," she said, staring at him with earnest, "for avoiding certain questions—about us and leaving you hanging—wondering. _And_ for not being the most pleasant person to be around lately."

Gambit didn't say it to her aloud but, it was true. She hadn't been, to put it lightly. The last few weeks, Ororo had been reclusive, sullen, and a bit gloomy since the day _he_ had left, and Remy was pissed that the reason for her glumness was probably hundreds of miles away somewhere. Out of his reach.

Yes, Remy LeBeau was very protective of one Ororo N'Dare Munroe—he always would be and both the friends knew it. And Ororo, no doubt, felt the same about himself so there was safety there. They'd live together, been thieves together, fought side by side together; experienced adventures during the course of their joint partnership, and had saved each other's lives certainly more than once.

There was a bond there, inexplicably strong, and even when he had been gone those six years it had never faded. Now, he was back and their bond wasn't the only thing he was feeling.

"I kno' yo' been upset, girl. Don' worry none 'bout, Remy, _ma chère_."

"But I do, Remy. I'd never hurt you purposely and you know that."

"I feel de same way, _chèrie_."

Ororo reached across the table and sought Remy's hand. He happily obliged her and she closed her own over his, intertwining their slender fingers together—one set tan and the other a deep brown. Ororo stared at their hands a long moment, an easy smile beginning to pull at the corner of her mouth. She rubbed her thumb over his, and was quiet and thoughtful for a long time. When she spoke again it was soft, and with slow consideration, like she had gone into herself and was thinking out loud introspectively.

Her eyes lifted and landed on his face, catching him staring at her with a serious expression, and a light in his incredible eyes. Her Cajun. Ororo studied him fondly, and whispered in awe, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You're beautiful, you know," she said out of the blue.

Surprise flitted across Gambit's face and he grinned slightly at her. "What?"

Ororo chuckled softly and repeated, "You're beautiful. Everything about you. I've always thought so. Since the first time I saw you. Even as a little girl."

Remy swallowed. Taken aback, but warmed by her confession. They smiled at each other for a long time, saying nothing. But then her smile faded, her head dropped, and her thumb on his hand stilled. Her hand tensed over his. Gambit frowned, his brow creased.

"What is it, _chère_?"

Ororo slowly closed her eyes and reopened them again. "I'm going to wait for Logan," she admitted just under her breath. He waited for her to look at him, but she wouldn't.

Remy's frown deepened. "What?"

"You know, I had asked Professor Xavier if I go could after him. To follow him and just . . . see what I could do, to help and bring him back sooner, but . . . he said I couldn't. That it wasn't wise, not to mention dangerous. Plus, there are the students and my responsibilities here . . ."

A pause. "I don't blame him for prohibiting me. Logan wouldn't like it anyway," she smiled sadly. "That would really set him off. He's a loner that way."

Reluctantly, Ororo glanced back up at the Cajun. "I don't know when he'll be back, but I've decided to wait for him . . . I love him."

Remy drew in a sharp breath, as if Ororo's comment had pained him, and he withdrew his hand from hers. "So what are y' sayin', 'Roro?" Anger laced his tone.

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just answering your question."

Remy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "F—k this," he grumbled under his breath. Remy slumped back in his chair.

"Are you angry?"

Gambit let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Damn right."

"Why?"

"'Cause dis is bullshit, _chère_."

"Remy, before you left here nothing then could've made me happier than being with you . . . ." Ororo shifted uneasily. "That's not something that's easy to admit."

Remy straightened back up in his seat. "Why's dat?"

"I . . . I do not know. I just—our time is over."

"And wha' 'bout de Wolverine's time? How long are y' willin' t' wait, _chère_?" he hissed. "He's already been gone longer 'n he said, _chère_," he spat out. From his seat, the Cajun seethed. He jumped to his feet and began to pace.

"You came back to me," she responded. "Why do you think he won't?"

"Dat's not de same, 'Roro," he snapped testily.

"How?"

"Because . . . it's just not, _chèrie_." He shook his head firmly. "It ain't de same."

"How so?" she stressed.

Remy jabbed a finger into his chest. "I left fo' different reasons. I _had_ t' go."

"_How_? Logan does have a legit reason. Why did _you_ have to go? What reason? Tell me. How are you any better than him? "

Remy continuing his pacing.

"What reason, Remy LeBeau?" Ororo shouted.

Remy whipped around and yelled, "Because I had fallen 'n love wit' you!" He watched her blink slowly, wearing an incredulous expression.

"_Oui_, I fell 'n love wit' my Stormy. Because right befo' my eyes de petite _fille_ I had taken care of like a brother suddenly turned into de most beautiful _femme_ I've ever seen 'n it scared de f—k outta me."

So there it was. His secret was out. Dammit, he had wanted her to admit her feelings first.

Ororo's expression went from shocked to flat. "You're lying," she said coolly.

"I'm what?"

"You heard me, Remy. I said you – are – lying."

Remy raised his head defiantly and engaged Ororo in a deadlocked glare. "You know I'm not. I ain't never lied t' y', girl. If anyone's lyin' it's you."

Shakily, Ororo stood to her feet, less than half a foot's distance between them. So close that she could feel the heat that radiated from his body. Her eyes narrowed to icy slits, attempting a dangerous look of forewarning. Silently daring him to repeat those words.

But Remy couldn't be fooled by it. He could see it for what it was. He even let a patronizing little ghost of a smirk curve his lips. Behind Ororo's cool mask, fear of exposure lurked behind her eyes and they almost seemed to plead with him . . . _don't go any further with this line of conversation. _

Remy LeBeau was having none of it.

He stepped forward. Drew near enough to feel her nipples harden against his chest. To catch the scents of sandalwood and other earthy scents that always seemed present with the goddess, and even close enough to feel the slightest touch of her full lips whispering against his in their close proximity. Gambit watched her draw in a shaky breath and release it. Her cool breath fanned over his mouth, but she refused to give an inch. Even as she tried her best to ignore the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach – the mad quivering, and the incredible drumming of her own heart.

Gambit bent his head down over her, his dark hair brushing against her face. His eyes bore down on her and into her soul. He ran his tongue over his lips, and they were so close, his tongue came into brief contact with her own set of lips. Ororo felt it and simultaneously gasped and then shivered.

Remy saw it and could've been more delighted by it. Yes, there was absolutely something—there, between them. More to the story than Ororo was letting on. Oh, he'd have to draw it from her.

"Admit it," Remy demanded in a deceptively low tone. Their lips touched with each word he spoke. "Admit dat yo' lyin'. Yo' not so 'n love wit' de Wolverine dat y' don' feel somet'ing f' me. Y' do. I kno' y' do."

A quiet Ororo struggled to remain closed-off and defiant with Remy so near and so handsome and dark. Suddenly his presence was intimidating and imminent, and he was speaking her secrets. Remy watched the conflict reflecting within the blues of her eyes and pounced. He lifted his hand and slowly placed it on the small of her back. He pulled her to him in a sudden jerk.

Ororo breathed hard and her chest heaved against his with every intake of air. Her words came with no small amount of effort. "Think you can use your tricks on me, LeBeau? Do you think I'll puddle at your feet like every other woman?"

He never answered her. She glared at him, but he never did. He let his free hand wander instead, letting it trail down the front of her body, his gaze eternally holding hers, and his hand continued to drop even as his lips approached her ear.

"Aah!" Ororo groaned harshly when she felt Remy's palm grip in between her legs. He held her tighter to him while grounding out into the shell of her ear, "Y' wan' me, 'Roro. Look. I can feel how hot y' are."

The words wrapped around his thick, husky drawl made Ororo shiver, and she stepped back from him, noticeably panting. He tried to recover the space, but again Ororo drew back. Gambit stopped.

"Y' never answered my question, _chère_. Do y' still love me?"

Frazzled and thoroughly aroused, Ororo's eyes searched his face fearfully. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came.

"Up in my room dat day y' said dat y' loved me, and again' t'day. Do you? I wanna kno', 'Roro. Do you wan' me? Because I wan' y', Stormy. I do."

Those catlike eyes began to glisten. Her bottom lip trembled.

A bold step forward. "Say it, _chère_." Another step. "Do you?"

Gambit watched her swallow hard, as ever so slowly, Ororo's head began to nod. A smile began to spread across his face, when both of them heard several footsteps approaching. Ororo sprang away instantly just as Marie, Bobby, and Kathryn knocked once and pulled open the door.

"Hey! Remy, Ororo."

Ororo seized the opportunity and bolted past the other three and from the greenhouse towards the mansion. Remy ran out behind her and called out her name. "Stormy! Wai—Stormy! _Merde_!"

Remy swore vehemently and turned back around. Six pairs of eyes glanced uneasily between each other with alarm etched on their faces.

"Is everything alright? What's wrong with, Ororo?" Kathryn piped. Gambit just sighed. He'd almost had her. Dammit!

"Um . . . We were jus' wonderin' if ya were ready ta go, sugah."

"Right. Sorry if we interrupted—" Bobby tried.

Marie watched Remy with curious eyes. He shook his head dejectedly. "Don' worry 'bout it. We jus—everyt'ings _bien_."

A lie. A quite obvious one at that. The three of them nodded, but their disbelief was clear.

"So, um, are you, uh, still up for Harry's?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>CANADA . . . . . .<strong>_

He slowed down as he neared the city limits, keeping his eyes peeled for a bar where he could get a hard drink. It was growing dark and cold—well, it was always cold.

Twenty minutes later he was pulling into a ratty old bar. Sounds of drunken laughter and the breaking of bottles coming from the establishment. Logan grinned. Just his kind of place. Before dismounting his bike, Logan reached behind him and grabbed his pack. He ruffled through it a second before pulling the object out. He ran his fingers down her photo and glanced up at the darkening sky.

It always reminded him of her. 'Ro.

He stared at her barely there smile in the picture and felt his heart clench painfully. "Flamin' hell," he swore. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost feel her warm arms come around him. Maybe laying asleep beside her in bed, keeping the nightmares away.

Since he'd started this journey, they'd only gotten worse than ever.

Logan cursed again and tucked the photo back in his bag, along with his three changes of clothes and the files and information the Professor had given him before he'd left.

He hopped off his bike, lit a cigar, and headed into the warmth of the bar.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I apologize for the delay. A new job has kept me one busy bee :D  
>This chapter is split; the continuation of it will be the next update. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.<p>

**To Be Continued**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Ah've got family in New Orleans, but Ah've never been myself. Ah'd sure like to though," Rogue was saying—near shouting almost, over the noisome cacophony inside of <em>Harry's<em>. The small local bar in downtown Salem Center was almost always extra busy on the weekends. The loud noise didn't bother her though, but rather, _the lack of noise_ coming from the unresponsive, somewhat sullen, man beside her.

While Bobby and Kathryn were moving out on the dance floor – which Rogue enviously noted – Remy stared blankly down at the shiny tabletop, repeatedly tapping his index finger against the bottom of his glass, a sweating, barely-touched scotch on the rocks. He was supposed to have been her companion tonight. Some companion, Rogue complained to herself. The southerner watched him, sighing and tried again to get his attentions.

"Ah'd need someone ta show me around of course . . ."

Nothing.

Rogue forced a strained chuckle. "Ya never know, one day, maybe, you could . . . ? Show me around, ya know? That'd be really somethang."

Silence.

The southerner frowned, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Remy?"

She shook him a little after her third attempt, with more insistence this time, her frustration reaching its peak. "Remy? Do you hear me? Are ya listenin' at all?"

The Cajun finally glanced up at her, his eyes covered by dark glasses even though they were inside. Hidden behind the shades, his gaze darted over to the frowning brunette sitting across from him.

"Are ya alright?" she posed, fighting to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"I'm alright." Remy tossed back a hearty gulp of the drink. All he could think about was Ororo.

"Ya seem distracted," she noted.

"I kno'. My apologizes, _chère_. M'sorry."

"Anythang Ah can help with?"

"Nah," Remy told her after a brief pause. He thought about Ororo's reaction right before her escape from the greenhouse before Bobby, Kat, and Anna had shown up and shook his head again.

"Remy'll handle it. No worries." He flashed her a brief, hint of a smile and finished off the glass of now watery scotch.

He didn't want to be here right now, no matter his promise to come out with the three other X-Men tonight. What he really wanted to do was head back to the mansion, find his Stormy, and finished what they'd started. So close. He'd been so damn close. Ororo – the stubborn _femme_. Strong-willed to a fault. He simultaneously loved and loathed that about her.

For the first time that night after being brought out his fog, Remy finally noticed Rogue wistfully staring out onto the dance floor where Bobby and Kitty were out there, pressed together in a dance, laughing cheerily, and Remy felt a prick of guilt. The southerner didn't look to be enjoying herself at all. Her feet tapped to the rhythm of the current song, but her face was listless, which was a shame because it took away from her attractiveness. Rogue had sass, and she'd been a good friend in his time at Xavier's since returning. Very enjoyable to be around. In fact, in his weaker, more pessimistic moments wherein he considered his current situation with Ororo, Remy had wondered if his efforts in getting Ororo to return his affections were the sensible thing when Ororo loved Logan and when he found Rogue to be very attractive. And it was more than obvious she found him attractive as well – it wouldn't have been a difficult matter at all to pursue Rogue instead of the untouchable African goddess.

Still, fun and pretty the Mississippi born mutant was, but in spite of all that, the very thing she simply was not, was his Stormy. No one was like Ororo, and at the end of the day, when the dust settled, the feisty southerner wasn't what he wanted; she wasn't the woman he loved – had loved for so long, in one way or another.

But, regardless of his prior lack of success, hope blossomed in Remy's heart. Ororo's defenses were slowly, but surely coming down. Like the walls of Jericho. He'd seen that clearly this afternoon. She had been on the verge of confirming what his heart and mind had long been telling him, even before they'd been interrupted. And when he got back, he would be certain to make sure that they fell completely.

Rogue sighed loudly as she watched Kathryn and her ex moving out on the floor. At least someone was having fun, though it certainly wasn't her. Rogue didn't have a clue as to what had taken place between Ororo and Remy earlier in the greenhouse, but it most surely seemed to be the cause of Remy's present attitude and she wondered, not for the first time since they left the grounds, just what she, Kathryn, and Bobby had walked in on. Ororo's hasty departure was strange – the woman didn't run from anything.

The scene had left her disconcerted. And the man's entire demeanor afterwards was nothing if not off-putting. How was she ever going to get closer to him the way things were going? Another sigh escaped her just as she felt Remy rise from the table and come around towards her. Her eyes widened when he extended a hand. Her heart pounded excitedly as she heard the words she'd been dying to hear all night.

"C'mon, _chère_. Let's dance. Kitty 'n de Popsicle ain't de only ones dat should be havin' all de fun, _non_?"

Surprise, surprise, that'd been just what she'd been thinking. Rogue grinned brightly, her green eyes twinkling with fresh delight. Her glumness vanished instantly. "Alright, let's go!" Rogue jumped to her feet, clinging onto Remy's arm as they shuffled in amongst the dancing crowd of bodies. She waved happily at Bobby and Kitty as she passed them. She held onto Remy firmly and began swaying.

**x x x**

At the mansion, Scott gargled and spat out the minty green mouthwash before addressing his fiancée. "He's in love with her, you know."

Jean laid her book down across her lap and lifted a titian eyebrow. "Come again?" She watched her fiancé inspecting his teeth in the mirror above the sink.

"LeBeau. He's in love with Ororo . . . and she loves him too." Satisfied with his nightly hygienic ablutions, Scott flipped off the light-switch and strode back into the bedroom.

"I was always suspicious of them – especially Ororo. You saw how she was after he left the first time. Remember?"

"Of course I do. For a time Ororo was inconsolable."

"Uh-huh. But now things have changed. If they get together it will be good for her, I say. The situation with Wolverine's absence has really depressed her, and Rogue for that matter. He's not good for her – he's not good for anybody."

The last part sounded almost bitter coming from Scott's lips and Jean frowned, feeling somewhat guilty, for she was undoubtedly responsible for much of Scott's hatred of Logan. Logan's absence had been felt by everyone, even her. All except Scott and Remy it seemed. For everyone else, it was a bit disheartening. She, herself, could hardly dwell on it even if she wanted to. Things with Scott had improved so much; all Jean could really be concerned about in the time being was keeping it that way. So, she didn't speak much of Logan and her feelings about his actions. She did consider Logan a friend, and, even though it had been inappropriate, something more than that not so long ago and because of that, she could empathize greatly with Ororo. But Jean knew Scott's statements about Ororo and Remy were true also. She had, on several occasions, sensed emotional and empathic impressions from both of them enough to recognize it for what it was and knew wholeheartedly that there was truth to what her fiancée was telling her.

Jean snuggled up to Scott after he'd climbed under their bedspread and exhaled softly. "I agree that both Remy and Ororo have feelings for one another, but you're forgetting something."

Scott looked down at her. "Oh?"

"Yes. Ororo has feelings for Remy, but she has feelings for Logan, too."

"Well, I'm rooting for Remy," said Scott.

"Scott . . ."

"No, I mean it."

"You know it'll be hell if Logan comes back and they are together, don't you?"

The first X-Man reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. "Yup. And that's putting it lightly. It's a hard lesson, but Wolverine's got to learn it eventually."

Jean frowned into the dark. "Learn what?"

"That there are consequences for your actions."

The two mumbled lowly to each other for a brief time afterwards until finally drifting off to sleep. The mansion was silent, with all its occupants slumbering soundly. Gambit, Rogue, Bobby and Kathryn had yet to return.

* * *

><p>Her father pecked away on his typewriter . . . her mother in the small kitchen with dinner well under way . . . Wonderful. It smelled wonderful. A dark little blue-eyed, white-haired girl played on the wooden floor. The small girl was giggling and her mother and father shook their heads fondly and smiled down at her.<p>

"Ororo, what are you pl—"

Then the roar of a plane. The deafening crash. Her father hollering loudly, and her mother's scream. Then blackness. The images replayed vividly, scrolling through her mind like an old film roll. Waking violently, Ororo's tortured scream tore through the mansion, accompanied by a frightening crack of lightening, like a whip, shattering the silence.

The four X-Men, now back from Harry's, were just coming upon the mansion front entrance, quietly laughing and chattering amongst themselves when they heard it. All of them stopped dead in their tracks and beside Bobby, Kathryn jumped, startled by it.

"What was that?" she gasped. "Was . . . was that . . .?"

"Stormy . . ."

The rain began beating earnestly then, the wind picking up around them. Gambit glanced up at the outside of Ororo's balcony, its doors blown wide open and her curtains fluttering wildly. Panic gripped him and without a second thought, Gambit ran up the short set of steps, burst through the heavy front doors and rushed up the stairs towards Ororo's loft, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

He could distinctly hear what sounded like several others following in behind him, but it was all peripheral. He needed to get to Ororo. The door to the loft fell open under the Cajun's weight. Gambit stopped short when he saw her. Ororo, in a tangled mass of covers, tossing and moaning awfully. Gambit rushed towards her.

Her eyes were white and little snaps of electricity flickered about them. She muttered rapidly, incoherently, in a broken mix of English and Arabic he could discern. "No," she cried. "Don't go. Don't leave. Please!"

"_Chère_ . . . _chèrie_! C'mon, bèbè, wakeup."

Gambit grabbed her face on both sides. "'Roro, wakeup, _ma chère_. S'okay, _petite_, wakeup. Please."

Frightened whimpers continued to escape her. Her voice rose in pitch and cracked brokenly when she yelled, followed by her uttering gravely, "Nooo! Don't go—don't leave me—pleeease!"

Lightning streaked brilliantly and the thunder was near deafening outside of the windows as Ororo arched up rigidly on the bed and then, suddenly, limply fell back down to the mattress. The tossing and fitfulness had stopped, but her body shook badly and she continued her quiet sobbing.

"Oh, Stormy. _Mon Dieu_, _belle_, c'mere . . ."

Her body, from head to toe, trembled, feeling feverish. Remy carefully managed to pull her down and into his lap, protectively circling his arms around her. His heart was in his throat, seeing her that way. It'd been a long time since he'd seen her in the midst of a fit like that. No doubt, she'd had a nightmare, only when Ororo had a nightmare it was more . . . terrifying, for the elements themselves responded to the woman's turmoil.

"Oh my God, is everything all right?" Jean Grey appearing clutching at her robe, Scott hovered beside her, and stared – chest heaving – down at both Ororo and Remy. Both of them looked dishelved.

"I . . . I felt her distress," the redheaded telepath divulged, panting.

"Yeah, and the rest of heard it," Scott replied. "Scared us all."

Downstairs several frightened children, disturbed from their slumber and the all the noise and commotion, peeked outside of the comfort of their rooms and out into the hall, whispering fearfully among themselves.

There were rapid footsteps on the stairs to the loft and then, voices calling up to them. "Everything all right? Shit, what is going on?"

Scott stood at the top of the landing and assured them calmly, "It's all right, guys—everything's okay." And then Kitty's voice: "Is Ororo all right? Anna, Remy, Bobby and I were just coming back when heard—"

"She's fine," said Scott. He glanced over at the weather-wielding mutant, quivering in LeBeau's arms. "Looks like she just had a nightmare." Scott studied the tender scene, Gambit's look of worry and relief and he stroked her hair and face, whispering to Ororo softly. "LeBeau's taking care of her."

Jean had been watching the two former thieves as well and gazed up at her fiancé with a knowing look in her eyes. She joined Scott at his side. "The students are probably scared and confused. Why don't you, Bobby, Warren and the rest go and see to them. Everything's fine up here."

"Sure thing." That came from Angel.

_'How is she, Jean?'_ The Professor.

_'She's seems okay now,'_ Jean responded telepathically, _'Gambit is with her.'_

_'I see. Good, I will see about her come morning. I could sense her duress.' _

_'As did I.'_

"They - They died—dead—gone . . . u-under the rumble," Ororo was whispering shakily. She curled in Gambit's arms like a baby, and he in turn held her like one, embracing her as if she was just as precious. Like before, only his feelings this time were different, stronger – the feelings a man has for a woman – not a little girl that he'd once played protector to.

"I kno', _chère_, Remy knows." He understood she was speaking of her parents – the accident that took them from her. Such dreams had plagued her sporadically since he'd known Ororo, especially if prompted by a fit of claustrophobia. He wasn't prepared, however, for what she muttered next.

"And then - then Logan . . . him too . . ."

Gambit listened silently, his jaws tightening.

"But—you—Remy you were gone too . . . l-lost to me . . . all of you GONE." A long mournful sob escaped her and she leaned up, still glad in her nightgown, damp with swea,t and buried her face against Remy's neck. "Remy, I'm sorry. So sorry."

"_Chère_ . . ."

After she'd awoke the storm outside had lessened greatly but upon its mistress' distress the storm quickened again, less tumultuous but boisterous still.

"Hush, bèbe . . . Remy ain't goin' nowhere."

Ororo clung to him like a drowning man to a life raft floating to safety, sputtering apologies and words of contrition. "Etienne, beloved . . . I-I do love you."

Remy sighed, so deep it seemed to come from his soul, and closed his eyes blissfully, savoring the words that had tumbled from her lips. This woman he loved.

Ororo pulled her wet, tear-streaked face back from its home on his shoulder and stared at him with a look of wonder, deep emotion glistened in her eyes. She still hiccupped and sniffed occasionally, but managed through her sniffles to clutch his face between her hands and say, "I do-do want you too. Always have."

His breathing was labored and stilted. Had she . . .? Had she just—?

"Kiss me," she told him, ". . . kiss me now." Without a second's thought, Ororo closed her eyes and crushed her mouth to Remy's.

Jean and Scott, who had watched wordlessly up until then, gasped and glanced at each other in amazement.

_Oh my God . . . _

Jean silently jerked her head in the direction of the door and Scott nodded in wordless agreement, attempting to take his leave as quietly as possible, intent on allowing the two privacy when he caught sight of Rogue standing at the door, staring at the couple, hugging and kissing on the floor, realization and hurt etched on her features. Distraught didn't describe the expression she wore.

**CANADA . . . . . .**

Anxiety filled Wolverine's adamantium bones as he stared out of a dirty window in his motel – a dingy, cheap little motel room he'd been in the last four days as he studied the maps and documents Xavier had given him while contemplating and plotting his next move.

But restlessness stirred within him and though Logan was tired, he wasn't looking forward to when sleep eventually claimed him because he knew more disturbing nightmares were waiting. He had the subtle sense that something was wrong. Somehow, somewhere, something was off. He worried it was Ororo or someone back at the mansion. But he was several hundred miles away – what the hell could he do even if it was? That's right – nothing.

"Shit." Logan passed thick fingers through the tufts of his wild, dark hair.

_Jus' get this shit done_, he told himself. _Get done and ya can go home. Back ta the mansion . . . back ta 'Ro."_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Tremendously, tremendously sorry for the long lack of an update - honestly. I cannot explain how immersed I've been with other matters, but still, I sincerely apologize. This story _is still_ in continuance. I pray I haven't lost my audience :D Thank you for your patience during such a long wait, and for reading and commenting. My appreciation to everyone who has commented & left a review :D

**To Be Continued**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"What was it dat y' dreamed 'bout, girl?"<p>

Gambit studied Ororo carefully from across one of the pillows that lay between them, his sharp eyes raking over every flawless feature. Beside him, Ororo sighed wearily, her gaze lowering back down to the mattress. Gambit raised her chin with his fingers and forced her eyes back up to meet his own.

"_Chère_, tell me," he urged, flicking an errant strand of hair out of her face.

The storm had past quieted and everyone that had run up to check on Ororo earlier during the small-scale maelstrom had long gone back to their beds. Gambit, himself, had remained. He alone with Ororo. Both of them stretched out on her cool bedroom floor, lost in each other, kissing and touching without the slightest hint of inhibition between them.

Surprisingly, Ororo found herself unable to let go, needing him so badly. With a desperation that almost frightened her. The two friends and ex-thieves kept that position for a long time, acutely aware of the gravity of what they had both initiated with each other, but neither of them choosing to speak of it just then. As sure as anything though, it was _felt_.

As for Ororo, she only wanted to savor it for a while. Too savor him, pressed against her as he was, and for once not resist what it was she felt for him, the Cajun. Even as she knew that perhaps it was a mite selfish of her. There'd be time to ponder the rationality of it all later, Ororo reasoned within herself. Right then, however, she simply wanted to be held by this man.

When their heated kisses had cooled and gradually subsided, Remy and Ororo crawled back into the bed and lay down beside each other. It was several minutes later when he interrupted the quiescence with his softly-uttered question.

The combination of warmth created by their bodies nestled so closer together amid the quiet, mingled effectively with Ororo's lingering exhaustion from earlier, and seemed to loosen the tight-lipped goddess' reticent tongue. Uncharacteristically so, Ororo found herself sharing her scattered thoughts with him without the normal hesitation.

"Remy, remember those nightmares I used to have? Back when you still took care of me? About the plane crash and my . . . and my parents?"

He nodded solemnly.

"In that dream I always see the walls caving in and falling down on us. I always hear my father yelling for my mother and me. And–And right when the ceiling collapses I can feel my mother's body covering mine, protecting me. Even as everything caves in, I hear her screams as we're buried under the rubble-together. And then all the noise stops . . ."

"Dat's terrible, 'Roro," responded Gambit.

Ororo nodded. "It has always been the same dream each time. The thing is, over the years I have very rarely had the dream. Only flashes when my claustrophobia flared up."

Gambit listened on carefully. "But t'night was diff'rent," he supplied knowingly.

"Yes," Ororo said, "tonight was different. Logan was there and you were too."

Gambit hesitated for a moment. "Yeah?" he croaked, then asked her: "Den what?"

Ororo stared up at the ceiling. "I manage to make my way out of the rubble. There are cuts and bruises all over me and I'm filthy with the dirt and debris. But the building is still crumbling down around me and I'm scared and at a total lost for what to do. The floor beneath me is starting to crack and I'm crying and panicking . . ."

"Go on."

"Then you and Logan appear on the other side of a great dividing crevice splitting the room in two. Logan is calling out to me to come to him, and you are calling out to me to come to you."

Gambit's eyes bore into the side of her face. "So what d' you do?"

Ororo tried to swallow around the lump in her throat before continuing, and her eyes slowly began filling up.

"I'm confused and fearful. The ceiling is falling down all around me and the gulf between you two and myself is growing and I know I must make a decision and choose whom to run to before it's too late but I can't. I look at the both you pleading, calling for me - to save me - but I am stuck; I don't know what to do. I cry and call out to both of you, but I-I don't move. It's like I am frozen . . ." A tear bubbled over and slid out of the corner of her eye.

"And-And just when I make my decision and go to leap over the chasm, the _both_ of you disappear. The rubble falls and buries me u-under." Ororo sniffed and wiped hastily at her wet face, staring blindly up at the ceiling above them.

"Hush, now, _chèrie_." He leaned over and brushed his hand through her hair, then laid a comforting hand on her face.

"Oh, Remy I could feel the lost, the anguish. My inability to choose . . . to know what was right—" Ororo shook her head with what felt like the helplessness of it all.

"'Jus' a dream, Stormy. Wit' everyt'ing dat's happened lately—no wonder yo' dreamin' t'ings like dat," he told her, trying to offer a comfort he didn't feel himself. Her retelling left him disturbed.

"So you're not going anywhere? You'll stay with me, Remy?"

She didn't say: "No matter what or _whom_ I choose?" That bit was left unspoken. But the silent question seemed to hover invisibly in the air just the same.

Gambit's eyes roamed over the lines of her stunningly beautiful face. The way she stared at him with such gravity, her tone and expression imploring him. Almost a plead.

Gambit swallowed back his own uncertainties at that moment, to lean gently forward and capture her lips. He released them only to capture them once more.

He wanted to be strong for her. He'd always wanted to be strong for her. His Stormy.

Ororo sighed against his mouth and opened hers further to receive more him, of his taste. Her eyes fluttered shut, blissfully. Her heart jumped delightfully in her chest. He tasted . . . wonderful.

The Cajun weaved his fingers through Ororo's white strands and she shifted, invading Remy's personal space and climbing over onto his lap. Ororo hovered over him slightly and grabbed the sides of head, forcing his face upward as she kissed him more deeply. His stubble rubbed against her cheek. Fire churned in Remy's gut and he groaned as his tongue slipped past Ororo's lips and even deeper into her mouth.

Ororo's skin felt hot, she could feel the warmth and heat, that distinct throb between her legs. She'd never wanted him more than at this moment, feeling him grow aroused beneath her. Suddenly Ororo felt their position shift, and then Gambit was hovering over her. He laid her down, back against the bed, and when he was settled on top of her, crushed his lips against hers. Ororo moaned deep in her throat and brought her leg up around his waist.

She was enjoying their passion immensely, but just as soon as it started it stopped. Before she could process what had happened, Gambit had loosened his hold and tore his mouth from hers. He looked off to the side, panting slightly.

Ororo was puzzled.

"What—? What is it, Remy?" she breathed heavily. Her eyes, almost silvery in her passion, searched his out questioningly. She hadn't wanted him to stop.

Remy sensed her confusion and sighed. How to answer that question? How to tell her that he wanted her, right _now_. So urgently, so _badly_ it was honestly painful, but that he was unsure as to whom she was thinking about in her desire? And was it – her desire – all for him? _Only_ for him?

"Etienne," Ororo prodded. Remy closed his eyes against the sound of her lips forming his middle name. He secretly loved when she called him that.

"_Chère_, I—"

Gambit shook his head. Perplexed, slowly Ororo removed herself from beneath him and scooted back over to her side of the bed. Gambit straightened up, sitting on the edge of the bed, and ran his hand through his hair.

Ororo watched him silently. He could feel her eyes on his back. For a moment, Gambit just glanced idly around the wide, open room, noting with much appreciation the various plants dotting the interior. Each one of them beautifully exotic—just like Ororo. He peered down at the bed and out of nowhere, an unbidden question pierced through his thoughts: How many times had the Wolverine been in her bed? Perhaps in the same place he currently sat. Did she wish it was him there now with her now or the Wolverine instead?

This new train of thought disturbed him and, without warning, he jumped to his feet. "Remy goin' out fo' a smoke," he announced suddenly. "Y' should get some rest, Stormy."

"But, Remy—"

"I'll be back."

"Wait, Remy . . . what's wrong? Why will you not tell me what it is?"

Gambit sighed, turning back around, and bent down far enough to kiss her bare shoulder. She noticed he purposely avoided her eyes.

"Tomorrow, _chère_. Sleep."

Ororo didn't fuss. Within an hour, the sun would began peeking over the horizon, and the X-Men were scheduled to a team Danger Room exercise following breakfast.

Things always looked much different in the light. Gambit knew this, more than most, having lived in the shadows most of his life. But the million dollar question – the one that had Gambit anxious and disconcerted was: But will she mean any of it in the light of morning? When there were no nightmares to drive her into his arms.

**x x x**

"Rogue, behind you!" Cyclops hollered.

The ground beneath her feet shook. Rogue regained her balance just long enough to turn around and face the towering form of a sentinel hovering menacingly above her, its arm poised and ready to shoot out a deadly projectile. She gasped in horror just as Angel swooped in swiftly, catching her up in his arms and flying her out of harm's way. Scott ran in and stopped several yards in front of the metal giant, releasing his optic beams with incredible accuracy and struck the robot soundly.

The machine's mechanical arm fell to the ground and it staggered back precariously, its exposed circuits sparking. But before it could right itself once more, a glowing playing card whistled through the air and hit the middle of its chest. One and then another. Below it, the X-Men took cover as the monstrosity exploded. Scrap bits and pieces of metal raining down upon them.

"Alright. Computer—end program," Cyclops said.

The damaged sentinel disappeared along with the four others that had been finished off earlier during the exercise, along with the various pieces strewn around the room. Within an instant, the room reverted back to its gleaming, polished state.

"Please, everyone huddle in."

Cyclops beckoned them in and took a deep breath. "That's all for today, we'll have another one mid-week. I know we were missing Storm today, but all around, nice job." He looked over at Marie.

"Rogue—"

"Ah know, Cyclops. Not my best, I know. Ah'm sorry," she pre-empted. Rogue brushed back the sweaty stripe of white hair that had fallen down in her face. Cyclops looked at her a moment and nodded, choosing to simply leave it at that. She'd not been at her best today. He knew it, the team knew it, and she did as well. No point drawing attention to the obvious and embarrassing her further.

"Angel, great save. You reacted swiftly and protected your fellow teammate. Very good work."

"You're the man, Wings," laughed Bobby. He clapped Warren hard on the shoulder and shook him. Kathryn rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Popsicle," Warren said, shoving him away playfully.

"Yes, shut up, Bobby," his girlfriend chimed.

"What!"

Cyclops rolled his eyes behind his visor and turned toward Gambit who'd remained unusually quiet the entire exercise, but performed so skillfully it was almost unnerving. Scott was still amazed at how formidable Remy LeBeau was, even after several months at the mansion and seeing him perform. He knew Gambit was a dangerous man, raised as Prince of the Thieves' Guild, son of the notorious Jean-Luc LeBeau of New Orleans. But seeing it was an entirely different matter. Anyone who found themselves as LeBeau's enemy would be most unfortunate, and Scott knew they were fortunate to have him amongst their ranks. The only other man he'd seen nearly as deadly in battle was the Wolverine.

"Gambit."

The Cajun raised his chin slightly. "Incredible work. 'Nuff said."

Gambit nodded shortly. "_D'accord_, _mon ami_," he drawled in that syrupy Cajun accent. Too cool and too charming for his own good. Rogue tried to ignore how attractive the man was, but was it difficult. And it annoyed her. She snorted impatiently. Folding her arms against her chest all the while thinking ruefully to herself: _Handsome bastard._

"Yeah, Cajun, that was awesome," Bobby was saying. "I haven't seen anyone cut through a DR session like that since Wolverine! And he's not here anymore!"

Kathryn groaned inwardly at her knuckleheaded boyfriend. "Bobby!"

"What!"

She jerked her head discreetly in Rogue's direction. Warren just face-palmed himself. The southern brunette's face looked tight and her green eyes were sad. Rogue was glaring down at her feet. This was one of the times Rogue was glad she and Bobby _hadn't_ worked out. The insensitive, immature—

"Oh," Bobby piped, his face reddened with the realization, and he had the decency at least to appear sheepish, "Er, sorry."

Cyclops exhaled and decided then and there to dismiss them all and forgo his usual nearly hour long rundown of the exercise. Not today.

Rogue was the first one out of the room, the automatic doors hissing shut behind her as she bolted from through the doors. Kathryn grabbed Bobby and began pulling him out of the room.

"Ow," Bobby complained. The pretty brunette let go of the hold she had on his ear to slap him about the shoulders.

"You twit! You how upset Rogue is about Logan leaving . . . and what if Storm had been present! Her feelings would've been hurt too! I swear you are about the most ignorant . . ."

"I'm sorry, babe! Honest!" Bobby apologized, trotting after his girlfriend. Warren shook his head and followed out behind them. The door closing on other two's argument.

Once they were alone, Scott turned to Remy. "So, how's Ororo? I mean I know you were with her last night."

"Stormy's alright."

"I figured when she failed to show up to the session today that she was probably tired still."

"Yeah. I t'ink she needs de rest."

Scott nodded. "You seemed kind of quiet today," he directed towards Gambit. "Is something going on?"

"Wit' what?

"You. I get the impression something's bothering you."

The Cajun was silent a few moments, then after a second he sighed and shrugged. "Don' really feel comf'table sharin' it right now, _mon_ _ami_. Bit complicated."

"It involves Ororo."

Gambit ran a hand across his prickly jaw and chuckled bitterly. "Y' could say dat."

"Hmm." This surprised Scott. He'd seen Remy and Ororo last night after Ororo had woken the entire mansion with her nightmare and everything had seemed fine. More than fine judging from that lip lock he'd witnessed along with Jean. He'd figured that the two had made some serious progress. Now, he was hearing this from LeBeau.

"Anything I can do?"

The Danger Room doors slid open suddenly and Ororo rushed in. She stopped abruptly in her tracks when she noticed the two men staring directly at her. Her gaze went from Remy to Scott.

"Oh, I, um . . . I missed the session, I see."

Remy couldn't help but smirk at her. He was outfitted in combat garb, she noticed, but not the usual X-uniform. The man was sweaty and flushed red from his workout, longish dark hair hanging down in his face. He was mostly covered but still a feast for the eyes, and Ororo couldn't help the small shiver that coursed through her.

She shook her head and said, "I apologize, Scott. I was—"

"It's not a problem, Ororo. I was just telling LeBeau how tired you must've been after last night."

But not tired enough to spending the night snogging Gambit, she thought guilty. Ororo cast a furtive split second glance in Remy's direction and he grinned knowingly, as if picking up on her thoughts. Just a tiny hint of one though. He still looked troubled to her eyes.

"Right. Thank you, Scott. It won't happen again, I assure you. I have no excuse."

"Don't worry about it."

"Are y' rested, _chère_?" Remy asked pointedly.

"Well enough."

"Good."

Scott looked between the two them. Taking the tension between them as his exit cue, Scott murmured casually: "I'm off for a shower and then a brief chat with the Professor. See you two later."

They listened to the sound of the other man's fading footsteps and the chrome doors closing behind him before chancing a glance at each other.

They stood there silently for several seconds.

Resigned to the fact that the conversation between them would most likely not be the most pleasant, Gambit sighed and rubbed anxiously at his eyes. Ororo noticed the signs of his stress and it gave her the impetus to ask the question that had been on her lips since he'd left her loft last night.

"What was it I did last night that upset you so, Remy? It is obvious to see whatever it was is still bothering you."

"What makes y' t'ink somet'ing botherin' me?" Remy replied easily.

"Are you intent on playing this game, Remy?" she countered shortly. "Mostly, I can read you like an open book. You seem to forget how well I know you. You are deliberately avoiding this issue.

Remy scoffed. "Funny, _chère_, dat you notice when it's Remy, but not when it's you, huh?"

"What?"

"I mean, y' ignored everyt'ing dat was b'tween us up until de Wolverine left," Gambit couldn't help but sneer. Remy looked at her, shook his head and began walking away. Frustrated, Ororo was right on his heels.

Gambit pushed open the changing room doors, hearing Ororo follow in behind him.

"Remy, I don't understand you."

He peeled off his damp shirt and turned towards Ororo. "What's t' understand, _chèrie_?"

Ororo stared and gulped. The bare chest in front of her rippled and glistened with sweat, his arms tanned lines of corded muscle. Remy watched her eyes dilate and the way her full mouth seemed to drop open, and he couldn't help the flutter in his stomach. Seeing the look of want on her flawless features. How long had he wanted her to gaze at him that way?

With some amount of difficult, Ororo tore her eyes away from the perfectly chiseled muscles along his stomach, and stared down at the floor.

"We just can't get this right, can we?" she muttered softly.

Panic gripped him minutely. He stepped closer to her. "Wha' d' y' mean, 'Roro?"

"I mean telepathy is not my gift, Remy. I don't know what is going through your mind, or why after our heart-to-heart last night you up and decided to leave, but what I do know is last night, I admitted something to you that I haven't admitted to anyone. Something I've hardly admitted to myself. You asked me in the greenhouse that day if I wanted you; that day in your room you asked me to kiss you – if I felt any love for you whatsoever – and last night I told you. I told you. Is that not what you wanted?"

The vulnerability echoing in her voice pricked Gambit. A feeling of longing and desire overwhelmed him suddenly and he acted on it, seizing Ororo by her waist and pressed his lips against hers. She responded immediately, sinking her fingers into his dampened locks and down the slick slopes of his back and shoulders. She could feel his hand running under her shirt, on her skin, and her eyes fluttered closed involuntarily. Gambit's skin felt feverish. When he pulled back for air, he was breathing heavily, red/black eyes half-lidded and burning. He took a breath then rasped, "O' course dat's wha' I wanted, _ma_ _chère_. 'S wha' I've always wanted."

He kissed her again.

"And I do, Remy. I do want you." So bad she could cry.

The corner of her lips curled. Ororo pulled him back to her and caught his lips once more. He pried her mouth open further and slid his tongue inside, grunting deep within his throat. She tasted so sweet.

Gambit held her tight as they stumbled forward and hit the changing room wall. He pressed further against her and caught her leg up against him by the knee. He ground his pelvis against her and Ororo lips let go of his to release a throaty moan, feeling the evidence of his arousal and elating in it.

"Feel how much I wan' y', _chère_?"

"Yes," she gasped, sounding most unlike her usual cool, collected self. He turned and flicked his tongue along the pulse point in her neck, letting a hand trail down between her legs. He could feel the damp heat emanating from her trousers. They'd been friends and partners for so long. Only in Remy's wildest, most erotic dreams did he think he'd ever be touching his Stormy like this—and her touching him.

"Do you feel how much I want _you_?" Ororo countered. "Want you now . . ." she took his lips, greedily, murmuring against them, "wanted you last night . . ."

It was then she felt his body go rigid against her, and his lips slowly unpeeling from hers. They hovered about a hair's breadth in front of her and she wanted them again desperately.

His tone grew cold. "'But wha' 'bout t'morrow, _chère_?" he said.

"What?" Ororo frowned.

He pulled away further. "Or how 'bout when de Wolverine's back?" he continued.

His name, spoken aloud while she was pinned against Gambit in the changing room, was like a bucket of cold water.

Wolverine.

And just like that the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes stretched.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" she began slowly. "That is why you—I see now."

Ororo sighed and shoved a hand through her tousled, thick mane. She licked swollen lips and smoothed hands down over her wrinkled clothing. Side-stepping Remy, she sighed again and then turned back to face him.

The tall Cajun stood silent, his chest still heaving and his heart pounding furiously, but nevertheless silent.

"Do you . . . believe me to be a liar, Remy?"

". . . _Non_."

"Except in this case, right?"

"_Non_, don' pull dat shit, _chèrie_!" Gambit hissed.

"Pull what?" Ororo exclaimed. "You think me a liar! All I confessed to you last night – all I've done – was a lie?"

For all of Ororo's bravado inside she was afraid and more than a little ashamed. Logan. What about Logan? It was like he had never even entered her thoughts during all this. In her terror the night before, in her passion . . . What about Logan, indeed?

It was more than apparent the other man had entered Remy's thoughts, which explained his recent attitude and behavior. But regardless, Ororo went on the defense as a means to protect herself from the weight of Remy's question.

"Is that what you believe, Remy?" Ororo went on. "Go on, tell me. You question my sincerity?"

"_Non_, Remy questions yo' loyalty!" he snapped. "All dis time since I've been back it's like y' been runnin' from how y' feel 'bout me. Y' have a nightmare, it shakes y' up, an' now suddenly y' want me," he drawled thickly.

"I-I do!"

Two steps and he was right in front of her, bearing down on her. The heat of his body, his scent. Eyes locked upon her, Gambit leaned down and intoned solemnly: " When I kiss y' – when I touch y' – who are y' t'inkin' of, _ma coeur_? Huh? Answer dat. If de Wolverine was here, right now, would y' still be here wit' me, 'Roro?"

Ororo shuddered as his breath brushed her face. Her mouth dropped open and closed again as if she meant to speak, but her throat felt dry and no words would come.

In the loud silence, Gambit could hear his heart break, but inside—that's where he felt it. The pain. But he bore it well, being the man he was. And he refused to let the agony this new knowledge caused to show on his face. He just nodded slowly, scrapped his shirt from off of the floor and said: "I didn' t'ink so."

The door slammed loudly and Ororo was alone, her hand over her mouth, and tears streaming down her face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Work has been killing me, and all I can do is apologize for the long wait between updates. Thank you greatly for each and every review, comment, fav, and story alert :D

**To Be Continued**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** A million apologies for the terribly long wait. A bit of a transitional chapter. Thank you tremendously for the reviews, PMs, alerts, and favorites.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<br>**

* * *

><p>Tired. She was so emotionally tired. Loneliness, sadness, jealously, and guilt swirled around sickeningly inside like a dark pall making Ororo feel drained and out-of-sorts.<p>

That one statement Gambit had said replayed in her mind over and over in a maddening, endless loop that refused to give her rest. _If de Wolverine was here, right now, would y' still be here wit' me, 'Roro?_

Nearly two weeks later, Ororo knew now that the answer probably was no. She wouldn't have been found in that position with Gambit had Logan still been at the mansion. To Gambit, such a reply meant that her feelings and actions towards him weren't true, but that conclusion was false entirely. Ororo had loved Remy before she had Logan, and if things had gone her way years ago, she'd have been with Remy. But then he had left and she'd found Logan.

Now, Logan was gone, and it seemed she was finding her love for Remy all over again. Perhaps so easily simply because it had never really died to begin with.

So no, Ororo could admit that she wouldn't have found herself kissing and groping Gambit down in the changing room, but that didn't mean her feelings for him were any less. But it was apparent to her now, after several days without speaking, that Gambit could not see that, especially judging by his angry reaction in the changing room.

Now this. For the third time this week, from the window of her classroom, Ororo watched Anna and Remy go off together. Lately, he was always with her and try as Ororo might to pretend it didn't bother her it did. Ororo couldn't recall a time since she and Remy had known each other when the two of them had had a disagreement like this one. Even after those years Remy had left and came back, seeking her forgiveness. The only reason Ororo felt angry, hurt and abandoned at that time was because unconsciously, and unwisely, she had fallen in love with Remy when should've have.

From her classroom, Ororo watched him and Rogue strolling the grounds near the rear of the mansion and looked on as the two of them stopped at one of the verandas. She observed Remy as he hopped on the edge of the stone railing and rooted around in the pocket of his tight jeans for a pack of cigarettes. Rogue hopped up and took the place next to him, and Ororo's eyes narrowed dangerously at the other woman. Remy then bumped the pretty southerner playfully with his shoulder. Rogue giggled loudly and Ororo glared.

"Er, uh, Miss Munroe?"

And glared.

"Hey, Miss Munroe?"

And glared.

"Miss Munroe!"

Ororo tore her eyes from the duo outside with some difficulty and came face to face with the confused faces of her students. One minuted she'd been lecturing, the next she'd stopped entirely.

"Oh." Ororo shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. "Oh, I'm sorry. W-What was it we were discussing?"

Jubilee looked warily at the older woman. "Um, you were telling us about the Roman Empire, how they were persecuting the Christians until Emperor Constantine, like, put a stop to it," replied the Asian girl. She blew a large pink bubble and promptly cracked it. Loudly.

"Oh, of course." Ororo opened her mouth to speak but she caught sight of Remy and Rogue again from the corner of her eye, and the words died on her lips.

"Yooo, Miss Munroooe," drawled Jubilee. She waved her hand around wildly to get her teacher's attention.

Ororo's head whipped back towards them. "Yes, um, right."

A few of the students exchanged amused glances amongst each other, and some of them snickered outright. Finding the normally attentive, professorial, no-nonsense instructor obviously more than a little flustered and distracted seemed to please them.

Ororo felt a sudden weariness enter into her bones. She let out a long, slow sigh and rubbed at her temples and felt them throbbing slightly under her fingertips. Her mind raced and her thoughts were scattered to the proverbial winds. She doubted her ability to properly gather her thoughts enough to teach this class today, and it was useless for her to continue to try.

Admitting defeat, Ororo apologized to her class and dismissed them all with the sole instruction to finish reading the chapter they had been began dissecting today, and for them to be prepared to finish the discussion in class tomorrow.

There was a collective murmur of gratitude and approval at their good fortunes. The sound of chairs scraping floors and the rustle of books and papers being gathered filled the room, as one by one the children happily shuffled from the classroom.

Ororo turned towards the window one last time and peered out of it in hopes of finding Rogue and Remy, but both X-Men were nowhere to be found. Ororo moaned in frustration and flopped ungracefully down into the chair behind her desk.

He'd gone off somewhere with Rogue again and Ororo did her best to pretend that it didn't upset her, but it did. More so than she ever thought it would. Especially after what happened between her and Gambit weeks earlier. For some reason this disagreement seemed even worse than all their previous ones, including all the years Gambit had been gone. They'd hardly spoken since.

The weather witch suddenly had the urge to cry. That itself was disconcerting because Ororo Munroe rarely cried. But the tell-tale burning behind her eyes signaled the onset of tears. Ororo found it difficult to swallow past the familiar lump in her throat. She placed her head on the cool desk and closed her eyes.

Logan. Remy. Remy. Logan. It was her nightmare all over again. What was she going to do?

"Hm. Strange weather. It was lovely earlier, now suddenly it looks like rain," came Charles Xavier's cultured tone.

"Professor."

Ororo looked up to find Charles wheeling inside the room wearing an amused expression. She glanced outside her windows and saw dark clouds stretching across the sky, threatening rain. Blue eyes went white and less than a second later the sky was once more bright and clear.

"Ah, now that's more like it," he grinned.

Ororo came around her desk to greet him.

"Evening, Ororo."

"Evening, Professor."

"How are you?"

"Wonderful," Ororo answered too quickly. Charles just looked at her and Ororo wiped her eyes self-consciously. Charles nodded and rolled over to the window. Ororo joined him and both of them stared silently out the window and down across the lawn.

"How's Laura? Is she adjusting well?

"Very well. She's already made a friend in Artie Maddicks."

"'Very well'?" Even after everything that happened at the F.o.H. base? Amazing."

"She's resilient. Strong. Like someone else I know."

Ororo mustered a small smile, but inside she grimaced. She was beginning to doubt her so-called strength and resilience. "You know," Ororo said, interrupting the silence, "I'm not really wonderful, Professor."

"I know, child."

Ororo sighed and let her head drop. Silence descended once more.

"He contacted me several days ago."

Ororo's ears perked. She didn't have to ask who he was referring to.

"He did?"

"Yes." Ororo's heart raced.

"What—how is he?"

"He's . . . fine. Unharmed as you might expect."

"And his progress?"

It was Charles' turn to sigh. "He's made some."

"Some? After so long?"

"It seems so."

Ororo frowned and stared blankly out the window. She sighed. "He won't be back any time soon will he, Professor?"

"No, I don't think so, Ororo," he replied softly.

"He's running. He's afraid."

Charles turned and smiled softly at her. "You know him well."

"I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure. I never thought he'd let fear keep him from his family." _Or_ f_rom me._

"You miss him."

Ororo thought about her current situation with Gambit and once more felt a disheartening wave of guilt. "Not as much as I should," she responded cryptically.

"Gambit?"

At that Ororo's head snapped towards Charles and her mouth dropped open. "W-What?"

The Professor chuckled at Ororo's expression. "It isn't hard to miss, Ororo. Especially when you're a telepath," he added. "Then after the nightmare you had that night . . ."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew when Gambit came back to the X-Men that his presence here would cause a bit of a . . . stir, and it appears that I was right. It has."

"I would never let personal issues affect the team."

"Of course not, Ororo. I don't meant that in the least."

"Professor—"

"He's never committed himself to any one place or any one person. Except you."

"Perhaps he shouldn't have," Ororo lamented. "Lately, I've begun to question my sense of loyalty, and I'm not sure I deserve anyone's commitment."

"That isn't true, Ororo. But you must first be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anyone else."

A tear rolled down Ororo's face. She sniffed and wiped at it quickly, a tiny smile curving her lips.

"Come, child."

The Professor tugged at her hand and Ororo kneeled down in front of his chair to embrace the fatherly, elder man warmly.

"Thank you, Professor," Ororo mumbled into his chest.

Charles Xavier looked down on the woman who was very much like a daughter to him and smiled. "You're welcome, Ororo."

Ororo stood to her feet and wiped her face.

"Now, I've got to go find, Jean. It'll be alright."

"Yes, Professor."

"Remember what I said."

"I will; I promise."

"Good."

When Ororo was alone again, she ran her hands through her hair and took a deep cleansing breath. _You must first be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anyone else_. Ororo mulled over those words.

_Resilient, strong, loyal. _Resilient, strong, loyal._ _Resilient, strong, loyal. __She had to be.

Ororo looked back at her desk. There were papers to grade, a lesson plan to review, and more importantly someone she desperately needed to talk to but first . . .

Ororo swung the windows open and felt the cool breeze wash over her face. She closed her eyes and relished the feel of it blowing through her hair. She called on her connection to it and let it lift her up so she hovered just above the floor. Ororo smiled into the warm sunshine that streamed through the opened windows. She felt better already.

Not a second later, the Wind Rider was sailing through the window, surfing the winds up towards a brilliant blue sky.

**x x x**

Remy answered all of Rogue's questions without giving too much of himself away. Rogue was a fellow teammate, and like the others, Remy considered her a friend of sorts, but he didn't like talking about himself.

He liked Rogue. She was southern bred, like him. Bold, sassy, and quite beautiful. But Remy LeBeau simply didn't expose himself like that. He preferred the shadows. Remy LeBeau's circle was always intentionally kept small. That was his unspoken rule. The Cajun trusted one person and one person only, and she wasn't just a person – she was a goddess.

Rogue and Remy sat outside on one of the verandas while she continued to chat away. If she noticed that the conversations between them were usually only surface deep than she never mentioned it.

The topic had swung back around towards talk about their respective homes down South, and for the tenth time Remy found himself answering questions about his beloved New Orleans. They were discussing Mardi Gras when Remy interjected, "One day, if y' want, I take ya, _chère_."

"Oh, Ah, want to."

Remy nodded and stared back up at the sky. His body was there with Rogue on the veranda, but his mind was with Ororo, filled with everything that was going on between them. Part of him felt like an idiot for turning her away that day when all he wanted was take her right there in the changing rooms.

Remy LeBeau never turned down a beautiful woman, and his reputation in that regard preceded him. When he'd had Ororo in his arms that day, her soft body pressed into his, and his arousal nestled against her, he'd had every intention of stripping her down, burying himself inside her, and making her his.

It was then the thought occurred to him that no matter how many times he took her physically, until she made a decision, she wasn't truly his. Not like he wanted. She belonged to another man, fucking Wolverine.

For the first time in his life, that wasn't enough for Remy LeBeau.

He was angry.

Angry at Ororo for being with someone else when she knew she belonged to him. Angry at the Wolverine for being one big fucking obstacle and pain in the ass, angry at himself for leaving, allowing Wolverine the opportunity to wedge his way into Ororo's heart, and lastly, Remy LeBeau was angry for falling in love with his _padnat_, his Stormy.

Mentally, Remy scoffed. It wasn't like he'd had a choice in the matter. Ororo was understanding, wise, intelligent, compassionate, nurturing, selfless, caring, powerful, and out of this world gorgeous. What hope did a thief have against falling in love with a goddess?

It was all so depressing. Outwardly, he remained Remy LeBeau. Daring, charming, sleek, handsome. He practiced in the Danger Room, he did his part during missions, he obeyed her commands when given, but inside he felt torn, exposed, and vulnerable. Even so, he still wanted her more than ever.

"Hey, Remy, were ya listen'?" Remy turned to seeing Rogue frowning at him.

"_Oui_."

Rogue didn't buy it. His mind was somewhere else. She got that impression every time she spoke to him. It was aggravating. She liked him for obvious reasons. The man was dark, sexy, flirty. She had to admit she liked that. They were spending more and more time together, and Rogue was optimistic. The only thing that put a damper on the situation was when he spaced out.

Rogue wasn't a fool. He and Ororo weren't talking and it didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Ororo had been sullen and Remy had been more aloof than usual. Even Bobby after a Danger Room session three days ago had asked out loud, "Yo what's up wit' Storm and Gambit?"

Kathryn had shushed him, and Scott had told him to mind his business, but that didn't stop everyone from being curious.

"Can Ah ask ya somethin', Remy?"

Remy fished out another cigarette and brought it to his lips. "'S on y' mind, _chère_?"

Rogue stared down at her gloved hands, wringing them a bit. "What's ya relationship with, Storm?"

"_Quoi_?"

"Ah know ya'll are friends and that ya took care of her and all but . . . Ah don't know. Ya'll are real close. Like really close, and Storm, she's supposed to be with Logan." Her last words came out a bit harsh.

"How can she be wit' de _homme_ if he ain't here?"

"You know what Ah mean."

"What's yo' relationship wit' de Wolverine?"

"What? Logan and I are friends."

"Dat's what me and Stormy are – friends. Best friends."

"Do ya love—?"

"Wanna go for a drink, _chère_?"

This wasn't a conversation he wanted to indulge. This was something that solely concerned he and Ororo, and if he was going to talk to anyone, it would be her. Remy threw the cigarette down and snuffed it out under his boot. He'd get reprimanded by Xavier for it later, but right now he didn't much care.

Remy LeBeau just wanted a drink.

* * *

><p><em><strong>CANADA . . . . . .<strong>_

Logan awoke in the wee morning hours to the sound of himself screaming. Startled awake by the noise, the feral man bolted upright in his bed and shifted his gaze all around the room, his unnaturally sharp eyes piercing through the pitch blackness. The sheets that were on his bed were quite damp, no doubt from the rivers of sweat that pored off of him, and the material was ripped and in near tatters. When the hell had he done that?

Panting hard and heavy, Logan looked down to find both sets of his shiny adamantium claws drawn and embedded deeply into the mattress on either side. He pushed them back in with a distinctive snikt and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

None of this was new for him. Logan couldn't count the number of beds he'd left holes in, or the amount of sheets he'd torn up since the beginning of this adventure if he tried. Nightmares and visions of fragmented memories replayed horrific images of glaring, harsh lights, frighteningly long needles, and bubbling tanks while he lay sleeping. So vivid were the dreams at times, Logan would wake up screaming, like he had tonight, feeling phantom pains all over his body where the needles in his dream had drilled into his body.

It was torment.

The closer he seemed to get to Alkali Lake the more frightening his nights became, and there was no Ororo in his bed to keep them at bay. The mysterious redhead that formerly haunted Logan's mind whenever he'd been forced into a memory was replaced by unidentified scientists laughing as they toasted champagne glasses full of bubbly in celebration. But in celebration of what, exactly? Logan had wondered more than once. He had an inkling, but didn't want to dwell on it. He'd discover the grisly details soon enough, he figured. Hesitance and procrastination were the only reasons he didn't know _now_.

Funnily, Logan couldn't wait to leave the mansion to find and connect all the missing links all those weeks ago, but once he'd gotten on the road he'd been afraid. Hard to admit and—he would never say it out loud—but it was true. If he had done what he needed to do right when he had left, Logan reckoned he could have been back at the mansion and back to Ororo in two weeks—three tops. But he hadn't and now it had been over three months.

The time he hadn't spent sniffing out information, he had spent dicking around, afraid to confront his past. He'd been so anxious, so determined to recover all the missing pieces and, like Humpty Dumpty, to put them back together again. But once the wheels started turning and the ball began rolling, Logan found himself uncertain.

What would he discover? How awful was it? How much would it fuck everything up? Logan spent half of his time doing what he'd set out to do and the other half riding, fighting, smoking, drinking, and roaming. Like the Logan he'd been before Cyclops and Storm had rescued him that fateful day. Before the X-Men.

Logan dug around in his worn duffel in search of his cigars. He lit one, puffing a few times, and took a deep, satisfying drag. After a few moments of quiet puffing, Logan slowly reached over to the small nightstand by the bed and picked up the wallet-sized picture of Ororo that he'd kept with him since the day he'd left. Smoked streamed from this mouth as he sat glaring at the striking beauty in the photo and felt an ache in his chest. Logan carefully traced over its surface with one thick finger. The longer he drew this out, the long he'd be apart from Ororo—time for him to haul ass and get this business done. Finished. Over with.

He missed the feel of Ororo's softly, womanly body curved up against his hard, muscular one. Logan missed hearing her deep, smoky voice whispering in his ear at night with that subtle African accent. Every time he'd indulge and think back on their nights together while picturing her stunning face, he found himself having to fight ardently against a straining bulge in his pants.

He missed the real thing.

He _wanted_ the real thing.

Logan gritted his teeth, and a second later, he was suddenly on his feet. Resolved and deciding against waiting 'til morning, Logan got up and began getting dressed. He quickly found his jeans and slid them up over his hips, then slipped on his shirt and leather jacket. He carelessly shoved his belongings back into his bag, but decided last minute to pocket the photo of Ororo instead. For some reason he just wanted it close.

The grizzled Canadian figured he'd need her strength in some way, shape, or form for what was ahead of him, and this was as close as he was going to get.

His bike started up with a low purr. With a quick rev of the powerful engine the Wolverine was off into the early morning. Light was just starting to break the darkness on the horizon, and as he blazed along the highways in a blur, Logan hoped inwardly that it would pierce the darkness of his mind as well.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

****Author's Note: ****Thank you for the continued patience, reviews and comments, and for reading. There are about 3 or 4 chapters left 'til completion, and then we're on to some brand new fics ;)****  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

* * *

><p>The last thing Remy LeBeau expected to see that night when he entered his room was Ororo Munroe. The former goddess sat waiting for him in the dark, draped carefully in a chair by his window. When she noticed him she sharpened immediately at his presence, watching as Remy sauntered slowly into the room. Ororo found herself staring at the lean Cajun with rapt fascination the closer and closer he drew. The dark shades that always covered his sensitive eyes were gone, leaving Remy's beautifully strange orbs unobstructed so that they glowed faintly in the darkness.<p>

His beauty struck her so profoundly in that moment that Ororo swallowed and murmured softly: "My, Remy LeBeau . . . you are . . . beautiful."

Her tone was unduly reverent, but she found that she couldn't help herself. There were many things she had come to his room to say to him – important things – but she also was unable not be awed by his beauty, and so the words had fallen honestly from her lips without prerequisite.

Remy stopped less than half a foot from her, and she heard him chuckle suddenly. He shrugged out of the brown duster that he wore and tossed it onto his bed. "What about de Wolverine?" he said smartly. Remy turned towards her wearing a bitter smirk. "Gambit mo' beautiful den him, _chèrie_?"

"I did not come up here to fight with you."

"_Non_?"

"No."

"Den why did you come up here, Stormy?"

Her back stood up straighter and she scooted closer towards the edge of her seat. "Because there are some things I want to tell you, and I want you to listen and hear me out," Ororo said. "I want you to hear everything I have to say."

The Cajun exhaled loudly and pulled his thick, auburn fringe away from his face. He turned away from her, silently cursing. Looking at her under the natural light of the moon that filtered through the windows made Remy's heart swell painfully with tender affection. She was so damn beautiful, and the low, dusky quality of her voice created an irritatingly warm sensation on the inside.

Though he had only just came back from Harry's downtown – where he had imbibed generously – already the unflappable Remy LeBeau found himself hankering desperately for another stiff drink. Just one to soothe his anxiety before Ororo could start in as he knew she would—and especially after Rogue and the discussion he'd held with her earlier at the bar this same night.

Remy's eyes landed on the wardrobe in the corner and he made his way towards it quickly. He swung open the doors and rooted around for the coveted bottle he kept hidden in there. Retrieving the bottle with an inward sigh of relief, Remy unscrewed the top and quickly tossed back a large fiery gulp. He closed his eyes and savored the burning in his chest, already feeling better.

From across the room, Ororo stared at him with clear disapproval. Remy ignored it. "Does the thought of having a discussion with me displease you that much?" she said.

Remy laughed at her in that deep, syrupy way of his. This woman has no clue the ways in which she affected him, thought Remy, and he proceeded to tell her as much. "You jus' don't know, _chère_. You jus' don't know." _How much I love you._ He thought it, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

"What don't I know?"

"Not'ing, _chère_. Never mind, Gambit," he replied instead.

Remy slumped down in a chair across from hers with the bottle still in hand in case he needed another fortifying sip. It was then that he got a good look at her, cocking his head slightly and studying her.

She was breathtaking. Glistening hair fell in a careless white tumble down her back and around her shoulders. She wore a robe made of white silk with matching flowing pants and camisole. The purity of the color offset her icy blue eyes and chocolaty brown skin. Remy didn't think it possible anyone could be more beautiful. Of course, this didn't help his plight any. It just reminded him how much he wanted her to be his. It astounded him still that he had actually taken care of this woman, this goddess, once, as a child.

"Remy," Ororo began softly. She walked over to his chair, kneeling on the floor, and took his hand. "Remy, I'm sorry. I know I've hurt you by—just—" Sigh. "I'm very sorry." Blue eyes searched his face with a sincere, open expression, beseeching him imploringly to see the truth of her words.

"You sorry, eh? For what? Lovin' de Wolverine an' not me?" He scoffed at her. "Don't be sorry." Remy angrily brought the bottle back to his lips.

"That's not true," Ororo insisted. She snatched the bottle from his hand impatiently and slid it across a nearby table stand. "Listen—Remy, listen . . . you are my dearest friend . . ."

"Yeah," Remy interrupted, waving his hand impatiently. "We covered dis already, _chère_." He pointed at her and then at himself. "I'm your friend; you're my _padnat_ – good ole' Stormy and Remy. I get it."

"That's right . . ."

"Yeah, well, you can save dat shit, 'Roro. All of it."

"What? How can you say that?"

"'Cause dat's not what I want or need anymore!" he shouted.

"Oh, no? Then what is Rogue? Did you decide to replace me with her? So its only _my_ friendship you don't want anymore."

"Are you kiddin' me, _chère_? She could never replace you. Unlike Remy and de way you replaced him."

"I didn't replace you, Remy! Ever! Do you not realize how my heart broke the first time you left me?"

"So what, yo' punishin' me by bein' wit' dat _couillon_?" Gambit spat contemptuously.

"What sort of question is that? Are you punishing me by being with Rogue?"

Gambit ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "'Roro, what does Rogue have t' do wit' anyt'ing?"

"It's obvious you want her. You're always together. I know how you are when it comes to women, Remy."

"Dat's 'cause I like de _fille_. She's become a friend to me jus' like de rest of de team. Plus, it's not like you care, you don't want Remy right? So what does it matter, _chère_?" The Cajun pushed up from his chair and stood to his feet, and Ororo followed him.

She stood behind him and inhaled shakily, afraid to say it. "I do. I love you." But she did.

"Don't say dat, 'Roro. Don't lie t' me."

"Remy, I love you!" Ororo bellowed. A bright streak of lightning flashed outside the windows, but with no accompanying thunder, and several silent moments ticked by in the sudden stillness. Both waited anxiously in the thick tension-filled bedroom.

"And I love you, _chère_. I swear I do, _mon couer_." The desire to touch her was so strong Gambit's hands clenched eagerly at his side. "But for de first time, I can't believe you, _chèrie_." He continued, sadly, "You'd go right to de man if he was here now. Dat's why y' never answered me dat day in de locker room."

Ororo's thin shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Her hand stretched out towards him as a peace-offering. "Remy, come to me please."

Remy looked at her, hesitating. He wanted to, desperately, but even so, remained right where he was.

"Come," Ororo beckoned.

Remy shook his head obstinately. "No, _chère_, I can't. It's not fair for you t' do dis t' me."

"To do what to you?"

"Play wit' me like dis."

Ororo's hand fell heavily to her side like a stone. Her eyes watered. Now at a loss for how to proceed. Physical contact had always been a way of communicating comfort towards each other, ever since he first held her as a de-aged 12 year-old girl suffering in the throes of a nightmare.

Just now, when Remy had refused to come to her, she'd felt totally bereft and wounded at the rejection. She regarded him with pleading eyes but her body language remained cool and tense.

"Can you tell me?" Ororo said, swallowing to hold back her tears, "what it is I should do to . . . to fix this? I promise I will try, I promise."

Gambit slowly shook his head. "No, _chère_. You tell me."

"What do you want me to say?" she cried.

"What it is _you_ want. _Who_ it is you want. It's jus' like in that dream you told me about—you don't really know. Do you, _ma chère_?"

So he had her there.

A long moment passed and Ororo explained, "When I came up here it was to apologize to you. To tell you I'm sorry—that I miss you and yes that I care for you . . . so much Remy . . . But I care for Logan too, and I miss him. I never wanted this . . . animosity and bitterness to exist between us. I can't give you want you want if what you want is for me to forget and renounce any feelings I have for Logan . . . and because of that, I can understand if you do not care for me anymore. After what happened last time I just . . . I don't want to feel that way again. I want you in my life, so I'll wait however long it takes for you to forgive me," Ororo vowed. "Just . . . don't give up on me, Etienne."

The Cajun's head slowly began to shake side to side, and he glared at her in disbelief. "How could you even t'ink dat? After all dis time, even now, you don' really believe I love you," he mused incredulously.

She let her hands drop and took a step back. "I could ask you the same." She parted with a look on her face that was bittersweet, a mix of solemnity and affection. "Goodnight, Remy."

Remy watched Ororo make her exit and close the door softly behind her, as graceful as always. When the African beauty was gone, Remy let out a vicious string of curses that could have made a hardened sailor blush. The feelings he was experiencing ran the gamut from love, lust, anger, desire, sadness, frustration, and each emotion seemed to war for dominance within him. Remy wanted to make all the rest disappear, and to give place only to the love and desire, but how could he if the object of it all wouldn't receive it?

He fell onto his bed and thought about what she had just said, about waiting however long it takes. Before he drifted off to sleep, still fully clothed, his last cognizant thought was thought he would too.

* * *

><p><strong>CANADA . . . . . . <strong>

It was his last stop before Alkali Lake.

Logan's bike—or rather Scott's bike—was parked outside of the library, it's rider inside thumbing brusquely through newspapers several decades old. He had searched the more recent ones earlier and found nothing. Story of Logan's life. It was fortunate he had an uncanny healing factor or Logan was sure his fingers would have fallen off an hour and a half ago. How far should he go back looking? Just how old was he?

The librarian had been giving him odd looks from he first stalked through the doors, but now the poor woman look half-frightened at hearing his intermittent animal-like growls of frustration. She asked Logan if she could help and Logan had declined in another intimidating growl. The spectacled woman had paled, and immediately returned her attention back to her work.

He ground his teeth in frustration. There wasn't shit here. No Department H, no archives or documents mentioning anything about government experimentation on mutants, and Logan figured quite correctly that such information, if it existed, wouldn't have been privy to the public regardless.

"Shit!"

He jumped from the table and snatched his jacket off the back of the chair. The two people in the sharing the room with him gasped, quickly stowing their books, and scurrying away. He was passing along the checkout area near the entrance when the sight of a plaque caught his attention, and Logan stopped. He walked over towards it, and began reading aloud softly: ". . . This library is named in honor of John L. Howlett Senior and his wife, Elizabeth Howlett. Established 1894."

Suddenly it felt like a blade had sliced through Logan's skull leaving a trail of white-hot pain that seemed to melt his mind. Logan fell to his knees, grabbing his head, and howling painfully.

_Green grass. The trees. Laughter. Running. His hand in hers. Running. Red. Laughing. Her hand. His. Red hair. His hand. Intertwined. Laughter. Red hair. Green eyes. Red hair. _

_They tumbled playfully in the grass. _

_"Oh, James, my dress!" she cried, her girlish laughter loud and joyous. "Oh, I've soiled my dress. Ha, ha!" _

_Then his father's voice. "James dinner is ready. Time to come inside. You as well, Rose. Come on."_

Logan cried out loudly, and then there was blackness.

* * *

><p>The fact that her talk with Remy hadn't gone as planned was all Ororo thought about as she sat in the War Room, alone, waiting for Scott, Jean, and Professor Xavier. Her intent—her plan—had been to talk, apologize, and begin solving the tangled web she and Remy had unconsciously woven about each other, but it hadn't worked like that at all.<p>

Nothing had been resolved—if anything their issues were now exacerbated. What now? was the current question she pondered anxiously.

Scott and Jean entered first and the Professor right after. When the three newest occupants had settled in Charles greeted them each in turn. From the corner of her eye, Ororo could see Scott observing her warily and she knew he'd try to corner her when the meeting was done.

A group of 10-15 Gifted Youngster students would attend a week-long exchange at the Massachusetts Academy which was presided over by its infamous headmistress, Emma Grace Frost in a joint program – newly instituted – that had been initiated between Xavier's Gifted Youngsters and the Massachusetts Academy. They assembled group would sample the different curriculum and classes offered, while experiencing a new setting and meeting new students, in a new environment, fulfilling one of Charles Francis Xavier's most core objectives—introducing and broadening his students to the wide spectrum of mutant culture. Two chaperones were to accompany the children on the excursion. The three senior X-Men and Xavier were now convened in the War Room to discuss it.

"Ororo, Scott, you two are team leaders, it's a given that one of you two should join the children," the Professor was saying.

Seated next to her fiancé, Jean tried not to look anxious, but the three others picked up on it notwithstanding. There was no debate that among the three senior X-Men that Jean Grey would go since she was a telepath. By a majority, a portion of the visiting students were telepaths as well, who would be sitting under Emma's tutelage during some of the instruction, and it made since for Jean to present.

One would be hard-pressed to discover anyone who liked the cunning, frigid Emma Frost, but with Jean Grey the dislike was compounded by the fact that Emma had a thing for Scott, and only several weeks ago had been dangerously close to sinking her well-manicured claws into him. Even Scott's deliberately neutral expression morphed slightly at the mention of the beautiful ash blonde telepath. Scott had lingering feelings of guilt and general awkwardness, and Jean absolutely didn't want the known seductress anywhere near her fiancé—not even for a week.

For the sake of the team, one of the two leaders would be required to stay behind. Ororo knew this and for the sake of both friends' peace of mind, volunteered to be the second adult to join Jean.

"If Scott has no objections, I volunteer to accompany Jean and the students."

It all fit in rather nicely with Ororo's insistent confusion about Gambit and Logan. Perhaps a week away from the mansion and the mess she'd created might prove beneficial. Ororo reckoned it would and was suddenly very glad that she had accepted.

She probably wasn't even aware of it, but Jean's face instantly slackened in relief. The sight of it almost made Ororo crack an amused smile. Commendably, Scott retained his usual neutral expression and offered a sharp nod.

"It's fine with me, Ororo. I have some new drills I want to start working on as soon as possible with the team. What do you say, Professor?"

Charles elegantly splayed his hands out in front of him in a gesture of indifference. "That will work just fine, Scott. Thank you, Ororo, for your willingness."

After the meeting, as Ororo was leaving the room, Jean cornered her before Scott had the chance. The redhead looked back at her fiancée, as if asking silently if she could go first, and Scott waved her on.

"Hey, Ororo, can I have a minute?"

The two of them wandered off to the side a ways. They stopped and Ororo watched the other woman shove her hands in her back pocket and stare down at her nervously shuffling feet.

"I'm glad that we'll be going together. Really glad," she stressed. "You didn't mention it in there, but I know part of the reason you chose to go was for Scott and I."

Ororo smiled at her. Jean smiled back and said, "It's a little uncomfortable for me knowing I'll have to spend a week with Emma Frost, but I feel much better with you there—my best friend. I know we've made up and everything, but we haven't been as close since I messed up and I miss that. I miss you. I want us to spend some time together while we're away." The telepath's voice was entreating.

Jean was right and Ororo, in spite of everything, laughed a little and leaned forward to give the other woman a warm hug. "That's great, Jean. I appreciate what you said and I think I'd like it as well."

Suddenly, Jean's embrace around her grew taut and she laughed, earnestly happy.

Ororo darted away quickly after she and Jean parted to avoid speaking with Scott who, she knew, was waiting. But he found her later that evening following a Danger Room session after she'd showered and holed up in her classroom where she was marking test papers.

"Evening, Ororo."

A big, 94% on St. John Allerdyce's paper with a thin, red marker. She flipped it over and picked up another paper from the opposite pile.

"Evening, Scott," she returned. She watched him as he came further into the room, exasperated slightly, but not surprised to see him there. The oldest X-Man took a seat on one of the many empty desks and folded his hands in his lap.

"How're you feeling about the trip?" he asked.

"Everything will be fine," she answered. "I'm not worried. Nice change of scenery for a week. It'll be interesting, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well, I appreciate what you did, Ororo. Volunteering to go on behalf of Jean and me."

"You're welcome, Scott."

"We're really coming along after everything, Jean and I."

"Mm-hm." Ororo marked another paper, flipped it over, and grabbed another from the pile. She waited, and then his voice came: "Are you and Gambit coming along?"

Cat eyes, a cool cerulean blue shot up instantly. Ororo put down her marker and the chair creaked as she sank further back in it. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You kissed. I saw you both the night you woke the mansion with your nightmare; Jean too. I know that you both have feelings for each other."

Ororo studied the dark wood of her desk. Her dark skin hid the warm flush sweeping across her face. Her mouth was open, though words themselves momentarily escaped Ororo. Scott and Jean had seen her kiss?

"He was comforting me . . ." she offered lamely. The look Scott directed her way spoke of just how lamely inadequate Ororo's defense was. The white-haired woman sighed pathetically, wondering why it was she was trying to defend herself at all. The initial kiss with Remy had occurred because she had feelings for him, and all the other kisses since as well. Her feelings for the former Cajun thief couldn't be denied, even to herself, so what was the point trying to deny them in front of Scott? she wondered.

"Alright, I have feelings for him," Ororo admitted. "I always have—even after he left. I did kiss him. I love him. Now, what of it, Scott?"

Hearing the truth put forth so forthrightly from his friend and teammate filled Scott Summers with surprise, astonishment. Her comment stunned the older X-Man.

"Well, I guess you can say I've been, uh, rooting for you both. That's why I asked. You and Gambit haven't seemed particularly close, and it's been very noticeable." He grinned a little and attempted a rare show of humor. "You could say I'm pretty . . . invested."

It worked. Ororo laughed and scoffed genially despite her sour mood. "You might've put your money on a losing horse," she lamented afterwards.

"Ah, because of Logan."

The woman sitting behind her desk said nothing. Then, finally, "Are you invested because you dislike Logan?" she inquired.

"Whether I do or do not like Logan has nothing to do with what's best for _you_," Scott explained.

"But what about the team? The potential disaster if—"

"It seems every X-Man that has ever been a part of this team has had his fair share of personal drama. It damn near seems to be common place with us, yet here we stand. We're quite resilient, Ororo. This team can withstand anything—and you're the heart of it."

Ororo smiled at this, showing her teeth, and that rare, dazzling white smile. Scott grinned back, standing up and patting her hand. He stopped at the door before turning to leave and imparted one last thought.

"Logan's been gone a long time with hardly a word. In your case I think the question that needs answered is: "Did absence make the heart grow fonder or not?" And then, he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>To Be Continued<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: 3 Things:  
>1) Sorry. . .<br>2) Forgive Me . . .  
>3) T<strong>**hank you tremendously for not only reading & reviewing this little insignificant morsel of a fic, but for enduring all the waiting :)  
>I apologize for the quality, I'm still trying to work off all the rust.<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen, Part 1<br>**

* * *

><p>He had woken up with bleary eyes and through his confusion and lingering pain, was immediately met with the horrified visage of the spectacled librarian he had growled at earlier. He blinked slowly several times and groaned at the strange sensations and faint buzzing inside his head.<p>

"Mister, I asked you if you're all right?!" he heard the librarian screeching above him. "Don't worry. I've sent someone to call an ambulance."

"No need," he heard someone else say. "I've got my cell phone."

"No," groaned Logan. "Don't. I don't need an ambulance."

"A-Are you sure?" the librarian stuttered in disbelief. "You had some sort of attack!"

"Happens from time to time," he groused. "Don't worry about it, lady."

Realizing that he was still sprawled out on the floor, Logan proceeded to stand on shaky legs. He stood firmly to his feet, only just then noticing the dozen or so people who had been staring on at the strange scene when he stretched up and all of the spectators that had been surrounding him and the librarian suddenly scuttled backwards like frightened sheep.

"Sir, are you sure you don't need medical help?"

Logan cracked his neck loudly, and several people winced and muttered amongst themselves disgustedly at both the sight and sound.

"I'm sure. I don't need any medical help, but there _is_ something more along your lines, lady, that you could help me with."

Her hand was still laid across her rapidly beating heart (Logan could hear it pounding like a drum), and she looked at him with a queer expression, one eyebrow raised high up over the top of her glasses as if to say: "Huh?"

Two hours after that, Logan had swiftly left the library with a backpack containing a handful of old photocopied newspaper articles courtesy of the librarian; the dates of which were all from the late 1800s. Admittedly it wasn't much, only brief write-ups of one Jacob Howlett who had made a fortune, according to the papers, mining copper ore. Information regarding his personal life was scant. The librarian had recovered her senses and was busily rolling through the microfiche machine in attempt to assist his search as he had asked her.

"Howlett," he'd told her. "Look up anything with a 'John and Elizabeth Howlett'."

During their search one Jacob Howlett had turned up results, but as of yet, nothing about a John and Elizabeth Howlett, excluding a blurb about the endowment given to the library which had been in the library's own financial records.

Logan wasn't much for computers so he attempted to continue investigating the old-fashioned way. But his attention was hardly set on it, as his thoughts settled not on the books and papers he was rifling through, but that vividly clear memory that just earlier had left him reeling. The pain of remembering had been great, but Logan figured it was one of the clearest, most vivid suppressed recollection he'd experienced. He had not only seen the images of the man and the laughing young girl, but he'd felt the warm air, the ground beneath their feet, the skin on skin touch of two hands intertwined.

Though he'd been unsuccessful in finding any clues to a mysterious Department K, Logan felt perhaps he might not come out completely empty-handed after all. Just as such ponderings were crossing Logan's mind, the librarian (whose name he still didn't know, and hadn't bother to ask for) beckoned him over.

"I've found an article about the endowment and there's a photograph along with it."

Logan paused before looking at the photograph for himself, his heart pitter-pattering anxiously. Some innate sense told him this was consequential, and suddenly he felt slightly unprepared for its magnitude. Hunting down answers was one thing, discovering them was another.

"Hey . . . don't you want to see?" the woman piped, noticing Logan's uncertainty.

"Yeah . . ."

She glared at him. "All right . . . I'll leave you to it." She vacated her seat, and disappeared somewhere behind several rows of bookshelves.

Now alone and private, Logan took slow, wary steps and proceeded to sit down in the empty chair. He saw precisely what he knew he would as he glanced at the screen—the man from the memory that had called him in for dinner, and pictured next to him in the old black and white, was an attractive dark-haired woman, the caption below the photograph identifying the two as John Howlett Senior and his wife, Elizabeth. There was a small boy standing in front of them, and he wore a strange expression on his small face, one not unlike his mother's whose own visage seemed withdrawn and her features screamed of discomfort. The father was the only one with a pleasant, handsome expression in the photograph.

This man and woman were his father and mother, and he, the little boy. The realization of this stunned Logan. He could feel his head beginning to throb, thudding against his temples and behind his eyelids. This was his family. His lost, forgotten family – a family from the 1800s. Meaning – judging by his youthfulness in the photograph – currently he was a man now over a century old.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me. . ." murmured Logan under his breath. The thought of it was astounding.

Logan scrolled through the rest of the slides out of a strangely curious hunch. He caught a split-second glimpse of something and scrolled back to view it. It was an obituary, written for one John Howlett Jr., age 12. Grazing rapidly over the details, Logan's heart sank with the realization that this young boy, whose obituary he stared at, would've had to have been his brother, his older brother. He suddenly felt sick. He knew that the other obituaries of his family had to be somewhere among these records, and he called the nameless librarian over to help him find them.

When he'd got back on the road, the library far behind him, the obituaries of Elizabeth and John Howlett Senior was tucked in Logan's pack, along with the other articles and the obituary of his brother. Logan hadn't read them yet; just collected them, thanked the librarian, and went on his way.

It was then that Logan felt acutely the hollow ache of loneliness, and he yearned for comfort of a particular kind. All this information had come quite unexpectedly. He hadn't come searching for this, but he'd found it, and now his heart felt weighted down with heaviness and the effort to absorb it all in. Since the beginning of his journey Logan's distance from Ororo had never smote him as terribly as it did just then, knowing that if she weren't hundreds of miles away than she wouldn't have been anywhere else but at his side as he grieved over his sad fragmented past. That knowledge was pressing down on him guiltily from all sides.

There'd been no contact with Ororo since his departure, although he had checked in with Charles via the older man's telepathy twice, just to alert the man that he wasn't dead. He thought he'd been making a wise decision in that regard, that he would be avoiding distraction that way for he knew she would plead for him to return. Suddenly he was doubtful that that decision had been wise, and worry was inexplicably creeping up along his metal spine like slow snaking tendrils . . .

* * *

><p><strong><em>XAVIER'S<em>****_ . . . . . . _**

Ororo had a question regarding the Boston itinerary so he stopped by Jean's room to inquire about it. The door was nearly half way open when she arrived and Ororo rapped gently on the door with her knuckles and called out to her friend.

No answer.

Ororo peeked inside and then came in fully.

"Jean?"

Rounding the corner, Ororo found the telepath leaning on the bathroom sink. One hand was pressed against her head, and her reflection in the mirror was that of a pained grimace.

"Are you all right, Jean?"

Jean snapped up immediately and turned back to find Ororo watching her with concern. Her painful expression immediately faded, and she smiled reassuringly at her friend.

"I didn't hear you come in, sorry."

"It's fine; I just had a question about our schedule this week. Do you have a headache? Is it your powers?" Ororo inquired.

"Oh, no . . . well . . . since the Professor's been guiding me through the beginnings of working with Cerebro my telepathy has been a little overexerted," Jean explained casually.

"Does the Professor know?"

"Yes, but it's my fault. He keeps telling me to take it slower, but I get a little over zealous at times. Though after this headache of mine I think I've properly learned my lesson," she chuckled.

Ororo grinned and held up a printout of the schedule. "Well, I just had a quick question about the itinerary. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, ask away."

Fifteen minutes later, an all too familiar mental summons from Professor Xavier echoed in their minds during the women's discussion, and they were called to the War Room at their mentor's behest. The two women shot each other wearily amused looks. A mission was unexpected and properly inconvenient what with Ororo, Jean, and the students leaving for Boston the following day, but Ororo, having been an X-Man since joining in her teens, found that mostly such things always proved to be at an inconvenient time and that nothing was new here.

"We should make our way down," said Jean. "I'll be down in a minute, you go on and go. I need something for this headache. If I don't find something in my medicine cabinet I'll have to run by medical bay."

On her way down to the lower levels, Ororo met Anna on their mutual journey towards the War Room. She said hello and smiled kindly to the other woman in passing. To her suprise, the southerner's reaction to Ororo's greeting was a hardly-concealed sneer, and an unpleasant look that instantly left Ororo feeling rudely taken aback. Coming from the opposite direction of the corridor, the pretty Mississippian brushed by Ororo as she passed, bumping her a bit, and her whole aura, which was quickly filling the corridor, was unmistakably chilly.

The not-so-subtle slight irked Ororo, as did the weather witch's own personal fancies about Anna's relation with Remy. And since Anna was her subordinate in regards to the X-Men, Ororo felt triply disrespected and justified in setting her straight.

"Is there a reason you're eyeing me like that, Rogue?" challenged Ororo, turning and narrowing her eyes on the other woman. The confrontation was a long timing coming and Ororo wasn't bothered with trying to avoid it.

Rogue stopped at the door and slowly turned on her heel to face Ororo directly. "Excuse me?"

"I think I spoke quite clearly. Is there a reason for your attitude?"

Rogue snorted nastily. "Is there a reason you're two-timing Logan 'n Remy?" she countered.

Ororo cut her a dangerous look, one that – if Rogue had been paying attention to – would've warned her to quit while she was ahead. The weather witch intoned coldly, "Oh is _that_ what I'm doing?"

Rogue shrugged. "Looks like it."

"And what would you know of it, pray tell?" Ororo crossed her arms, a look of disgusted condescension gracing her face.

"Ah know you're supposed ta' be with Logan, but you're also sniffin' 'round Remy now that he's gone. Ah don't think it's right. What? Ya think ya can jus' have whoever ya want, _goddess_? What would Logan say, Storm?" Rogue's tone of voice had increased, and there was genuine hurt and effrontery in it. It tumbled out swiftly, a sign that it had been something she'd wanted to say for some time now.

Ororo took a bold step forward. "Let me inform _you_ of something, Rogue, something that you obviously have failed to understand . . ." She stepped even closer to Rogue, barely an inch of space now existed between the two women. Those exotic features hardened nearly imperceptibly, and she ground out sharply, "You, Rogue, cannot tell me one single damned thing about Remy LeBeau. I know Remy on a level you couldn't even begin to understand. He and I have been through things you know absolutely nothing of, and the bonds between he and I go beyond the X-Men, beyond Logan, and most certainly beyond you."

Rogue swallowed and blinked several times.

Ororo continued knowingly. "You are not the first woman to have been captured by Remy's charms . . ." she said. Rogue opened her mouth in an apparent attempt to deny it, but Ororo would not be interrupted. " . . Nor will you be the last, but do not make the mistake of thinking that that entitles you to add your paltry two cents in regards to a relationship you know nothing about outside of little glimpses you may have caught here and there."

"And as for Logan, he left _me_, not the other way around. I have steadfastly been faithful to Logan even when he was not faithful to me. Where were you when he and Jean were skirting around behind my back? Did you give him a similar speech?"

Rogue opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again without a word.

"Nothing to say?"

". . . It wasn't my business," Rogue remarked defiantly, though the words were muttered softly. Not all like her remarks had been before.

"You're damned right it wasn't, and neither is this!"

"I'm allowed to care and be concerned."

"Care? Yes. Concerned. Yes. But not nosy. Not combative. Not rude. Not snide. If you are ignorant of the facts than you should not - open - your - mouth."

Rogue glowered ruefully.

"You know, I understand your motives, Rogue. You may not think so, but I do. You might very well have feelings for Remy, and I'm almost positive, judging from your history with him, that you have them for Logan as well, but never . . . project your insecurities or your anger unfairly on me again. Are we clear on this?" Ororo snapped.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Beyond them were Scott, Warren, Kathryn, and Bobby. The quartet stopped abruptly in their tracks while mid-conversation and stared curiously at the two women engaged in the heated stand-still near the threshold of the War Room. Undisguised hostility radiated from the two X-Women, and if Warren wasn't mistaken, a subtle current of electricity was pleasantly tickling the feathers on his wings.

Her eyes not once drifting from the other woman, Ororo gritted out, "Yes. Yes, I think we are." Swiftly she strode into the War Room as the automatic doors opened and allowed her access.

"Rogue?" Their leader's mousy brown eyebrow was raised comically high over his glistening ruby visor.

"You heard her, didn't you? Everythang's fine," the southerner clipped in a sour, snippy tone.

Scott stared blankly at her vacated spot. What the hell had that been about?

"Ooookaaay," said Kathryn after Rogue had disappeared. She cleared her throat uncomfortably, and the four of them exchanged careful glances.

"Nice—a cat fight," commented Bobby, in his usual tactless fashion.

"Shut up, Drake."

"What! It's a war outside the war room!"

Warren looked over at his friend and shook his head pitifully. "Your corniness knows no bounds."

Kathryn giggled and Bobby scowled at him. Scott, disturbed and perplex, sighed shortly and strode into the War Room after the two women. From the look of things it wasn't the best idea to leave Storm and Rogue alone in the room together for long. When he entered however, he did not see a clash fists and lighting, but the sight of Ororo enveloped affectionately within two huge, fuzzy blue arms, beaming brightly at their longtime friend and colleague.

"Look who the professor found," Ororo grinned. The sudden change in her disposition was instant, and the abruptness of it startled Scott for a moment. He decided to simply roll with it.

"McCoy."

The Professor sat watching with a contented smile. Rogue, still miffed, looked on curiously. Scott strode over towards the large, hairy mutant covered from head to toe in soft blue fur, and shook his large hand. Both men clapped each other heartily on the back.

"Scott. Good to see you, my man."

Warren, Kathryn, and Bobby eventually straggled in and were watching as well. Scott proceeded to introduce them all. Introductions were made one by one as the Professor explained to those unfamiliar with the strikingly strange-looking mutant dressed in the handsome and expertly tailored three-piece suit, that Henry "Hank" McCoy was a longtime friend and collaborator of the X-Men, as well as Secretary of Mutant Affairs to the President of the United States. He was also a scientist, diplomat, verifiable genius, and scholar.

"Yes, Charles has told me about you all, the newest, most recent X-Members. It's both an honor and a pleasure to meet you finally; it won't be the last." He smiled broadly at each of them, his white teeth appearing incredibly stark in contrast to his blue face. His eyes scanned over the crew one more time. "Ah, but we seem to be missing one . . . where is Gambit, the scoundrel?"

"Y' know me, _mon ami_, got t' be fashionably late." And just as silent and fast as the thief he was, Gambit was at the door, propped against it with his casual grace and wearing his customary smirk. "Long time no see, Beast."

Hank strode forward, his large hand outstretched. "Good to see you again, Gambit."

"_D'accord._ Likewise, _mon ami_." Gambit stepped back after releasing the other man's hand. His eyes shot quickly over Hank's burly shoulders to Ororo. She stared back at him, those wide exotic eyes gleaming, and saying so much.

The tension became instantly thick . . . and apparent to all present.

Their last conversation had been emotional and unpleasant, unsettling enough even to make Ororo question whether or not she and Gambit's relationship would ever once more be the same. Things had changed drastically. Both friends had candidly admitted to loving the other, the cruel irony being neither one believed the other.

It seemed that they were now at an impasse.

Gambit hesitantly tore his eyes away and happened to catch gaze Rogue's gaze from where she stood glaring in the corner. Her green eyes glinted reproachfully. Guilt and regret prodded Gambit's heart as he saw the expression she wore. Solemnly, he recalled the conversation he and the southern brunette had had at Harry's — the same night he had come home and found Ororo waiting up for him in his bedroom — and the guilt he was experiencing increased.

The sudden palpable discomfort amongst the occupants was noticeably awkward; they deliberately avoided each other's gazes lest their faces reveal all. Hank McCoy, ignorant to what was happening, stared on with obvious, though not impolite, confusion.

Sensing the silent battle more acutely than anyone due to his unrivaled telepathic awareness, the Professor, ever tactful and clever, directed their attention to the cause of the initial summons. There was no mission as they had originally presumed, but important news that Henry had brought to share with them all, the Professor bidding them to congregate there in the War Room.

Ororo, though she was one of the main ones nestled in the thick of all the current tension, wasn't the only person grateful for the shift in attention. Warren, Bobby, and Kathryn were as well, the latter quietly exhaling a small breath in relief. After witnessing Ororo and Rogue out in the hall, and the myriad glances, scowls, and glares that had been exchanged amongst certain members since arriving, Kathryn figured even the smallest spark could start a proverbial blaze.

Settling silently around the familiar round table, the X-Men proceeded to give the preeminent blue mutant their ears, and their undivided attentions.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>


End file.
